


Makiokoru

by nowheremarlene



Series: bitter, sweet. [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Gen, Historical Inaccuracy, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Light Angst, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Slash, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 12:09:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15630411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowheremarlene/pseuds/nowheremarlene
Summary: He would sometimes sigh, absolutely enthralled with happy, love-filled endings. Still, he thought he was not deserving of one.He would laugh, instantly mesmerised with the blue, bright skies above. Still, he felt like he was not living life at its fullest.A tale in which two men, through unforeseen circumstances, fall in love for the first time.





	1. Prologue.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta-ed, feel free to correct my mistakes in the comments :).

**“Life and Death, both dancing their polarising nature away, both cherishing their unbeknownst love.”**

* * *

 

Life and Death, both praised and loathed by the rest of the Deities, danced the most delicate melody on that mesmerising night. Twirling around, silk robes flew gracefully along with the soft breeze. Small smiles and shy eyes, the couple chose to grasp the innocence of the agape, leaning for sweet nuzzles instead of passionate kisses. Life, being as pure and graceful as ever, blissfully leaned on Death’s alluring embrace.

With white, long, silky hair; slim, strong, pale body; bewitching, determined blue eyes; and an ironically cheeky attitude, which was how the Life God enjoyed being described and portrayed like. On the other hand, the Death God got his enormous pride on the way everyone now feared him: long, dishevelled black hair; tall, fierce, muscular body; handsome features with bright, other-worldly green eyes; and the traces of a kind, energetic personality left around.

Both Gods contrasted themselves beautifully. In fact, their mere relationship could be described in two words that made it justice: polarising and ironically. The former for their personalities both enchanted and drove away Gods and humans alike, the latter because such a callous personality did not belong to someone portraying life, and neither did a lively behaviour to a Deathly being.

“My beloved,” the tallest of the two cooed, “my dearest Nylzairvta.”

Nylzairvta, whose blue eyes were currently closed, simply chose to ignore his lover. Instead, he relinquished on their embrace. Nylzairvta decided to adore, worship, to feel their peaceful dance up until his bones. It was going to be the last time they saw each other for a long time, so he decided to cherish their last moments.

“Nylzairvta,” the black-haired God repeated his name, savouring every syllable venomously. “Are you not as depressed as I am? This is our last encounter.”

“I, indeed, feel quite blue,” Nylzairvta confessed, cheek pressed on his lover’s broad chest, “however, Kaathedarr, I certainly am sure we will meet again. This is no more than a temporary defeat, that is.”

Even though the delicate melody was playing in their minds, even though the moonlight barely allowed unclouded vision, even though they were beyond tired after their last struggle; never minding those adverse factors, they still chose to meet one last time, as lovers.

“How would my dearest describe our encounter?”

“How would you describe it, instead?”

Their stares met, the ocean met the forest. Ever so adoringly, they held eye contact until both opened their mouths to answer the question long left behind.

“Bitter.”

“Sweet.”

Kaathedarr let out a loud laugh and Nylzairvta rolled his eyes. Kaathedarr held the Life God even tighter, nuzzling the latter’s white hair, the scent reminding him of sandalwood, warmth and home.

“You are standing hallway through your demise, and you still got the nerve to laugh?”

“Indeed,” Kaathedarr smiled, “I prefer surrendering proud and merry rather than bawling my eyes out, do not you think?”

“The art of defeat is an eccentric one,” Nylzairvta replied, humming a soft song, “while some choose honour over their own life, settling on vanishing themselves on the astringent beauty of suicide, you fancy fun over honour by relishing your lover and your glorious moments before fading away.”

“You have just described my beliefs beautifully,” the Death God sighed, “Although you admitted it was a defeat before, I daresay you do not think of it like that.”

“Why, yes, you are right,” Nylzairvta lifted an arm from its place on Kaathedarr’s neck, resting it on the latter’s cheek. “I’ve seen my siblings and dearest Father cease from existence, yet you are still here with me, whither I go. I may not meet up with my Family in the afterlife, but I can certainly say that we are bound to do so.

“As Deities, Fate brought us together as lovers, rather than enemies. Whether Fate likes it or not, she will never tear us apart. I know I will look out for you in the afterlife, I know you will search everywhere for me once this is over.”

The Life God finished, opting for closing his eyes again. He did not wait for Kaathedarr’s answer, nor minded as long as no one disturbed their small, delicate moment together.

Silence felt more effective than words. While Kaathedarr rocked them back and forth, Nylzairvta started singing softly in his mother tongue. Together, they waited patiently for their ruin: after countless battles fought side by side, it seemed like it was time for them to rest.

Together, they merrily embraced as they heard the fierce, untamed roars of their enemies. Together, they clung to one another, staring at each other’s eyes with love and devotion as sharp claws tore their souls apart.

Being the last Major Gods standing quite fuelled up their never-ending pride. If only they existed, they would have already laughed with arrogance at everyone’s faces, much to their Godly enemies’ dismay.

 “How will we look like in the afterlife? Will we recognise each other? Or will we even exist in the same timeline?”

“I guarantee you, we have got a lot of time to bother with those thoughts. I would prefer focusing on more important matters, as to where are we.”

“You sound like an old man.”

“I cannot keep up with your snappiness.”

* * *

 

_«Even if thousands of kilometres keep us apart, I will not stop following you until our souls are merged into one. »_


	2. Makiokoru, Chapter I.

Arise.

Graceful features, skin relinquished as the luxurious fan made the heat fly away.

Arise.

Confident smile, eyes watching playfully the mass of bodies ahead.

Arise.

The _kagema_ 1 sighed with boredom, twirling a strand of his white hair around his finger. Even though the teahouse was full, he could not help feeling awfully bored; while there were some exceptions blended on the crowd, he wished for an interesting, handsome man to enter through that silk curtain and ask for his services.

However, as much as he enjoyed pleasing a client’s erect manhood, Ginsaki could not help feeling quite blue. Overwork? Perhaps, rather than mere tiredness.

“Oh, Ginsaki? I’ve heard of him, he’s a first-rate kagema, it seems. I wish to feel him at least once in my lifetime.”

“Rumours say that enjoying one hour of his services costs ten years’ worth of humble-working.”

“He does it all, really. Ginsaki dances, talks, smiles and moans beautifully. In fact, all women envy him.” Ginsaki himself was arrogant enough to smile sweetly every time he heard them all, for what they murmured was everything but a lie.

Ginsaki’s absent-minded thoughts were swept away as a group of foreigners entered the silk curtains of the teahouse. Even from his hidden corner, Ginsaki could see the actions and gestures the guests shared: with a sly stare and attentive ears, he slithered over them.

“Sir, what shall we serve you? Our most delicious tea? Or our fanciest liquor?” Such a boot-licker, oh, such a cock-sucker the Mistress of the teahouse was. “We will be satisfied as long as you enjoy your stay.”

Ginsaki sneered, hiding those serpent-like features away with his fan. As much as he admired his master’s benevolence, Ginsaki loved hating on his wife: being the hypocrite, all-men’s woman she was, the kagema was earnestly surprised by how his Master still had not left her.

The silver-haired man stood up from the cushion he sat in. Kimono gracefully moving along with him like a second skin, Ginsaki took a step forward into the energetic part of the teahouse. Slowly, quietly, peacefully, he only took one step before sitting on the furthermost _kamiza_ 2 from the entrance. Surrounded by kagema and _yūjo_ 3 alike, they warmly welcomed the foreigners in.

Rubbing his aching temples, the kagema tried to turn off the loud voices

Ginsaki rolled his eyes when the Mistress did not even bat an eyelash at the foreigners’ lack of proper manners. Ever so obnoxiously, they irrupted the hall’s peace with their loud voices; ever so annoyingly, they barked laughs and violated most of the place’s norms.

Now that the guests were becoming familiar with their surroundings, the kagema decided to analyse them individually. He found most of them beyond boring, however, he could not stop himself from studying the most flattered one. Blonde hair and a confident posture, the most privileged man of them all quietly sipped his tea, opting for closing his eyes and enjoy the lively atmosphere.

“We came here to have fun, didn’t we, General?” a soldier shouted in harsh English, daiginjo spilling from the small cup he held. “Geisha, that’s how they’re called, aren’t they?”

Ginsaki’s assumption was correct—the General, that confident blonde, replied. “I daresay they are called _oiran_ 4.”

The kagema covered his mouth with his beloved fan, sneering at the last phrase. Oh, how amusing the foreigners were, for they were unsurprisingly easy to deceive: both first-rate kagema like him and oiran enjoyed seeing them as fast-earned money.

And, indeed, the Mistress saw their naïve potential, too.

“We have lots of beautiful oiran waiting for you, Sirs,” the Mistress grinned and brought a couple of excited, miserable yūjo closer. “Pure yet longing for your touch. Choose what you will.”

While the minor soldiers and similar feasted on them as hungry beasts, the General kept sipping his tea. He looked over the rim of his cup before averting his gaze from his lackeys, revelling in the delicious taste of his tea. Of course, the Mistress also took notice of this.

“Oh, General,” she lauded him with a failing English, “shall I introduce to you our most gracious ladies of this humble teahouse? I am sure they will vanish all the troubles the wars you fought in have brought.”

“If that is possible, I would like to,” he spoke his approval with surprisingly fluent Japanese.

Ginsaki’s Mistress smiled too sweetly, standing up and heading to where the oiran and he carefully sat. He noticed the General staring at the secluded ladies, eyeing their every move with utter disinterest. Gods, the kagema had never seen in his whole life a man who prioritised tea above beautiful, willing ladies.

“He’s very handsome, isn’t he?” one of the oiran giggled against her fan, taking care of not speaking loud enough for the General to hear.

“You mustn’t talk,” one of the eldest kagema scolded her, “a mere foreigner must earn the privilege of seeing you talk.”

Ginsaki could not help interrupting their small quarrel. “Everyone, even our dearest Mistress, stopped caring about the norms long time ago. Why us, the favoured ones, should bother keeping up our façade?”

The former grinned and the latter growled, not even pretending to hide their stares full of lavishness anymore. Ginsaki, on the other side, shook his head and found the swift dance of the candle’s flames more interesting than the current circumstance he was in.

Ginsaki’s beloved Mistress urged two of the most talented oiran and kagema forward, ever so willing to please the foreign General that attended her teahouse. The guest in question sighed, carefully analysing the workers whether they fulfilled his darkest, lewd desires.

However, the words of appraisal nor the wanton stares came. Instead, the General kindly dismissed them with a wave of his hand, placing the almost empty teacup on the floor. As if the owner of the place, the blond man quietly signalled the distracted, silver-haired kagema.

“You have plenty of beautiful workers,” the General smiled gently, receiving a couple of air-headed giggles and frowns, “however, if I am able to, I would like to spend my time with that kagema.”

Ginsaki did not notice his Mistress’ dismay until he, yawning, looked at her. Pressed lips and clenched fists, she nodded forcefully and walked in his direction. It was no grand revelation that both the mature lady and the young man held mutual hatred. The kagema only stayed upright and waiting, luring the poor, adult woman into his venomous nest.

“Your presence is required, Ginsaki,” she growled under her breath.

“I must stay far from the customer, for he had not shown me his worth yet.”

I will play your game, too, Ginsaki thought.

“Rules are flexible for important guests, more so for a General coming from a wealthy country.”

“What would happen if he were a deceiving, poor man? Would you be treating him the same way? Go, and make him pay for me.”

“The rules righteously say that a worker should not disobey their Master nor Mistress, and you seem willing to follow them like a prayer, aren’t you?”

Ginsaki rolled his eyes, standing gracefully. “However, I am certainly not willing to grant you victory,” he whispered, sweet poison dripping between his words. Lifting his pale hand, he pinched the Mistress’ nose bridge with more force than necessary, gesture aggressive rather than teasing. “Please, Madame, do not ruin such beautiful features of yours with a frown. Will the men you tend everyday still drool for you?” he laughed maliciously and left.

Just as how he was trained to be, Ginsaki walked slowly towards the General. Slowly, patiently, teasing. Following the protocol he seemed so righteous about, the kagema merely took a seat on a closer kamiza, yet far away enough to provoke disapproving glances.

“Sir, I will warn you about one thing,” the oiran whispered in the General’s ear, casting a furtive glance at the sitting Ginsaki, “ambitious, yet disgustingly arrogant, he’s going to either make your wishes come true or destroy ‘em all.” And then, she politely excused herself and walked to their corner.

The blond man smiled faintly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Shall I proceed to pay you for his services?”

“I would like to say you must—” Ginsaki was interrupted by the Mistress.

“That won’t be necessary, Sir,” she cooed him, tried to charm him, “being the honourable guest you are, I’ll make a great exception for you. Go, let him please you, because you’re worthier than him.”

Ginsaki rolled his eyes.

The General frowned for a second.

“You’ve already got a room assigned for you,” the Mistress continued, urging both men to stand up, “your companion, and especially you, can leave or stay anytime you want. Go, enjoy your stay at your new home.” She feigned a sweet laugh.

Ginsaki, in the midst of the chaos, looked over his shoulder. He could at least smirk at the General’s apparent confusion, for he was not the only one overwhelmed by the Mistress’ urgency. Their eyes met and Ginsaki maintained the contact. As discreet as a predator watching its prey, he nudged his head to their assigned room, guiding the foreigner to his pleasure.

* * *

 

Leonhard did not intend to cause such an uproar when arriving at the teahouse.

Since the moment he placed a foot on the wooden floor, a bunch of ladies and men alike flooded him upon arriving at the entrance. Then, the owner of the teahouse started trying her hardest to make them feel at home. Misinterpret him not, Leonhard appreciated the warm welcome, however, something in it felt lacklustre.

Was it the girls’ pressure? Was it the boys’ flirting? Perhaps, was it the Mistress’ hypocrisy? Or, God forbid him, was he not in the mood for the thing he came here for?

His mates cheered and laughed like maniacs, yet Leonhard found himself entranced by the tea’s mesmerising flavour. The ladies flattered and lured him in, yet Leonhard found himself concentrated on the beautiful patterns their kimono gracefully showed off.

Should he simply stop for the day and sleep his worries away on the soft bed he chose in the inn?

Leonhard was about to, God forbid him, again, voice out his clear disapproval until he turned his head to the right. Some may call it a ‘happy accident’, others may call it a ‘painful coincidence’, call it as you will, but there was something certain: fate had something to do with such a casual action turning into an unforgettable one.

There he was, quietly admiring the dancing flames of the candles and covering half his face with a luxurious fan. The man was calmly ignoring the chaos ahead of him, not even stopping to look at Leonhard’s mates when they started to bark nonsense. For a moment, he felt a distant connection surging through them quietly.

From what Leonhard could admire, he was quite sure about one thing: that beautiful man was not Japanese in any way. Misunderstand him not, again, for he was not someone that constantly relied on prejudices; however, the discrepancies were too painfully obvious not to notice.

That man owned an extremely light shade of blond some may even confuse it with silver, and those clear blue eyes did not belong to a native Japanese. He wore a stern, harsh-looking profile, nowhere near the enthralling, delicate features of both native men and women.

He drew Leonhard in, he captivated every one of his senses as for how a predator would do to its prey. Ironically enough, the General still felt some kind of disconnection with the most beautiful being he had ever seen. Something was bound to happen, and that was Leonhard bedding the man throughout the course of the night: something already written, something so easy discouraged him.

Leonhard knew the man was the humanisation of intriguing mystery, so only a couple of hours doing nothing more than primal intercourse was not what the man deserved. Instead, the latter was worthy of profound conversations, sweet admiration, and someone entertaining enough to provoke him the itch of interest, the itch of wanting to know more.

People constantly called him arrogant, pretentious, yet Leonhard kept his head up and high. He knew he had the ability to captivate that man as much as he captivated him already. And by holding the prestigious title of Master General, Leonhard certainly was not willing to admire from afar.

When the Mistress suggested him the most exclusive workers of the teahouse, Leonhard was more than pleased when the old lady indiscreetly avoided calling the silver-haired man to introduce him.

Leonhard desired to struggle for the things he liked.

Such a dismay he caused on the Mistress, for her kind expression suddenly shifted when he dismissed all the oiran he was introduced to. Her hands clenched into fists, her cheeks reddened, and her posture stiffened: she tried her hardest to please the humming, arrogant Leonhard by offering even the most expensive workers living there.

“Oh, Master General,” the old lady pleaded, feigned worry clouding her brown eyes, “are you displeased with our selections? How can I erase that evil frown from your features, Sir?”

He sipped his tea, leaving the lady on her own with her increasing nerves until he tasted the last drop of the delicious greenness. “I appreciate your wide, colourful selection, Mistress—nonetheless, I would enjoy spending my night with the kagema sitting over there.”

Leonhard pointed at the white-haired man, glaring at the owner with fierce determination. Had she refrained from accepting his request, the General would have been more than happy to stand and take the man to his room by himself.

When the General and everyone surrounding him watched the Mistress go to the furthest part of the teahouse, he heard whispers dripping with jealousy; while some were laments regarding Leonhard’s reject, most of them centred on the kagema alone.

“As expected from Ginsaki, right? He always catches the eye of foreigners.”

“What did he do to deserve such honourable client? He’s as much of a rat as we are.”

“Was beauty considered with attitude, he’d for sure be the ugliest of us all.”

Even the Mistress seemed both willing and content to throw some insults at the kagema—or Ginsaki, as to how he was named by the rest of the teahouse members. Leonhard was quite sure that envy was the main reason for all those phrases, yet he felt uncomfortable enough to genuinely contemplate the idea of defending the victim from the sneers.

Nonetheless, Leonhard was conscious enough to know that it was not his business, nor he had any reason to interfere in it.

Urged by the sour lady, Leonhard followed Ginsaki to their small, yet luxurious private chamber.

Ginsaki opened the wooden door, not bothered in the slightest to check if his customer had entered the chamber. As if home, the kagema settled and took a seat on the futon laying in the centre of the room. He crossed his legs, the fan already covering every one of his features except his blue eyes.

The General had another idea in mind, though. Standing on the entrance, he was transfixed with the simple, yet ethereal decoration of the chamber. Wooden planks creaked under his bare feet, their rustic appearance mesmerising; gentle, small flames bathed the walls with an otherworldly glow; and the wide, red and sinful sheets of the futon flowing like sea waves. Small, yet bright holes excused themselves as windows, causing the chamber to lack the privacy feel it needed.

“Do you not like to watch while we surrender to pleasure? Shall I extinguish the flames, Sir?” were the first words Ginsaki directed to Leonhard, coated with honey yet urging, pressuring.

“Why thank you, but I would not like that,” he replied confidently, closing the door behind him and staring at Ginsaki. “To be completely honest, I am not in the mood of doing what you seem to have in mind.”

The silver-haired man frowned, blue eyes flaring a cold fire. “If I ask so myself, why are you here, then?”

“Do not mistake me, I am throughoutly enchanted by you—that is why I chose you, had you not figured it out by now. Still, I am more than interested to know you better, both from outside and inside.”

Leonhard had not heard such a malicious sneer for a while. “The name is Ginsaki, had you not known by now,” he repeated the words directed to him before, “what makes you think I want to have a conversation with a costumer? We are sex workers, not some sort of problem-listeners.”

“I do not think that is the proper way to treat someone so fascinating,” the blond man sat beside Ginsaki, careful not to scare him away. “In my homeland, people like that must be heard, admired, to say the least.”

“Sadly, we are not in your homeland. In fact, this is mine.”

“What a cruel host you are, Ginsaki, denying and refusing to answer you guest’s inquiries,” Leonhard chuckled, staring at the kagema’s gentle profile, “tell me, illustrate me, delight me with your hidden, pleasure-unrelated talents.”

‘Oh,’ Ginsaki thought sourly, ‘I do not and will not fall easily, dear. Perish while trying, for your charms will not make me fall on your feet.’

“Is that the purpose of your visit, then? To converse and watch a kagema’s talents?” Ginsaki laughed, closing his fan and putting it down on his lap, “I lament your confusion, Sir. You should have contracted a geisha instead, for that is the type of work they tend to do, for intellectuals like you. A simple-minded, foolish kagema like me will not satisfy your needs.”

“You keep on spitting venom on yourself, yet you have proven to have the ability to thread a fluid, active conversation with me,” Leonhard, despite being shamelessly neglected more than thrice, still held himself high and arrogant. “Before giving up, though, can I inquire you once more?”

“As long as it satisfies you, Sir.”

“You are not native to this land, so why call it home?”

“Controlled by prejudice, are you not? Dark hair and eyes are not the only characteristics Japanese people can have, Master.”

“You know the language—perfectly and beautifully, more than I could ever do. However, you do not seem comfortable by speaking it, thus why you tend to hesitate when talking.”

Ginsaki gritted his teeth. “Cannot people think before speaking, Sir? If only you were used to it, you would not have asked such ridiculous questions.”

“Shall I start speaking to you in English? Perhaps, is your native tongue the same as mine?”

That was definitely not the proper way to enchant a man, had no one noticed yet. The kagema fell silent, suddenly finding the painted flowers on the walls more bearable than the man resting beside him. If only he became a child now, he would have already thrown the biggest tantrum ever: trying to restore the sanity left on him, he threw the fan away with force.

For a moment, Ginsaki wished for the walls to have wider windows so that he could scream his frustration away to the air Gods.

“Whatever,” Ginsaki snapped, “what can I do to please you? Play the zither? Dance to the melody of the cicadas?” he pointed the discarded fan, “Or shall I spread my legs and violate myself with the fan?”

Leonhard smiled, standing up and leaning on the nearest wall. “Delight me with the mesmerising notes of the zither, please.”

‘What a chemistry,’ some would say, ‘the contrast is written everywhere. I daresay they are meant to stay away from each other five metres, if not five kilometres.’

Ginsaki briefly disappeared from the chamber, leaving Leonhard alone with his thoughts. However, the loneliness did not last long, for the kagema soon arrived with the zither between his arms.

“Tell me about your talents, Sir,” he broke the silence, sitting down on the futon and not giving Leonhard a second glance. His pale, thin hands prepared the instrument with such skilfulness that it almost felt easy. “I am proposing hearing you, yet not guaranteeing to listen to you. Start, make yourself feel at home.”

Leonhard happily ignored Ginsaki’s proposal—more like an order, it seemed. Instead, he relished on watching the silver-haired man disassociate himself from his surroundings just to fall prey to concentration.

Butterflies tingled the insides of the General’s stomach when he heard the first note of the zither. Calm, merry, playful, free. The strings danced below Ginsaki’s fingers, giving away a cheerful melody that proudly contrasted to the darkness of the night. It transported Leonhard to a peaceful countryside, then it lured him to the bank of a clear-blue river, and finally pursued him through a field where sunflowers and dandelions swam following the sun.

Lips pursed, the kagema showed a colourful range of expressions: concentration, relaxation, confidence and frustration throughout the song. From the happiness it eluded, it quickly shifted to the epic, spirit-lifting feeling of a warrior’s hymn to the mournful, gut-wrecking lament of a man’s sad ode.

At some point, the rhythm of the melody urged Ginsaki to move his fingers faster, his movements loosening the already soft grip the kimono had over him. The fabric slowly slipped from his shoulders, exposing the snow-like, tender skin lying beneath it. From Leonhard’s position in the opposite wall, he could barely see marks resembling tiny, blade-like cuts tattooed into his skin.

Leonhard wanted to absorb every one of Ginsaki’s gestures, looks, movements: like death, he wanted to own his soul and not let anyone touch it or possess it. And, as expected, the blond did not notice the gentle subside of the zither until he heard Ginsaki speak out loud.

“Do you like staring that much?” Hands looming over the zither’s strings, the kagema had an eyebrow raised, cheekiness at its fullest.

“I want to remember this moment for a long time,” Leonhard sighed, head lolling lazily to his shoulder, “after all, I am not going to stay here forever. Give me something worth to capture in my mind, and I will feel satisfied.”

For the first time that whole night, Ginsaki let out a hum of genuine interest. “I know I need not know your business, yet I am curious. For how long you are staying, Sir?”

“Six months. Maybe more, maybe less.”

“How long have you been staying?”

Leonhard, deep voice and all, produced a rough chuckle from his chest. “It is my first week, actually. I am glad you finally seem to care about me.”

If only the midnight’s cold breeze had not swallowed the candles’ light, Leonhard would have noticed the kagema’s subtle fluster. Nevertheless, it was not necessary, for it was fast enough not to let Ginsaki notice, too.

Ginsaki sighed, stretching his fingers and rolling his head from side to side.

“If memories are capable of making you feel satisfied, whether sexually or emotionally,” he started, the venom long gone from his sentences, leaving hesitance—or rather, a soft sense of quiet kindness—on its place. “I am more than willing to fulfil your desires.”

“Thank you, Ginsaki. And I meant it,” eyes creased with tender happiness.

Both fell, again, to silence. Leonhard closed his eyes, sleep trying to make its way through his delirious mind. Ginsaki, on the other side, lowered his head and rested his hands on his lap, meditating. Bad temper aside, the kagema resembled the youth of a naïve, pure boy—for Leonhard, of course.

The kagema merely nodded. “Shall I proceed to play melodies with the zither, Sir?”

“Please, call me not Sir. It makes me feel older than I really am.”

“Do you wish for me to call you General? Or maybe Master?”

“Leonhard is all right,” he fidgeted with the frozen wax pooling around a candle, “although, I am not sure how safe is it to give a prostitute my real name.”

“I am certain your name is rolling off the tongues of almost all workers residing here,” Ginsaki smirked, expression resembling bitterness, “I have already told you mine, though. Please, feel relieved to know that I have no ulterior motives.”

Silent admiration from both sides really was the one dominating the conversation.

Eventually, the flames dancing around the room died, leaving wax behind; the incense quietly scenting their encounter ran off, its smoke leaving traces of roses in the aftermath; the night was not meant to be eternal.

Something Leonhard noticed yet was not valiant enough to say out loud was that, even in the darkness’ embrace, Ginsaki’s vibrant blue eyes radiated light on their own. Expectant and impatient, they darted around Leonhard’s silhouette until the latter made a move.

I am not willing to give in.

I will not give up.

With butterfly steps, Leonhard made his way to the futon where the absent-minded kagema sat. Zither resting on his lap, Ginsaki did not bother to reproach Leonhard for his indiscreet actions: thoughts fluttering and dancing like the former candles’ flames, the kagema barely noticed the General getting closer to him.

“I will certainly remember this night, Ginsaki,” warm voice, low tone, Leonhard smiled earnestly. “What we do now is up to you, for my wishes have been fulfilled by now.”

Shoulders almost relaxed, the kagema did not respond right away.

Definitely, Ginsaki longed to rest. Before this particular night, the latter had not had an opportunity to alleviate his wavering sleep schedule. Being—proudly—the most requested, demanded first-rate kagema of Kyoto as a whole, he hardly had any time left to be at leisure. Therefore, Leonhard’s vague command was something Ginsaki could not let down.

Ginsaki shuddered before he could stop himself. Eyes threatening to shut, he rubbed them harshly and shook his head. “Please, Leonhard,” accent becoming rougher with the last word, he quickly stood up and went for the wooden chair near the corner. “Please, I simply want to rest.”

Before Leonhard could protest, Ginsaki sat on the chair and covered his bare shoulders. He could feel the night’s cold freezing his skin, yet he did not do anything to stop the upcoming chills possessing his body.

“You could use the futon,” Leonhard suggested, worry clouding his words, “mind me not, I can sleep in the chair.”

“Oh, no, that would be rather disrespectful for my guest,” Ginsaki said mid-slumber, “such an honourable client I have, yet he chooses my well-being over his. What did I do to deserve a well-mannered man?” Even in his drowsy state, the kagema had the cheekiness to mock the malicious gossip surrounding him.

The kagema, then, fell asleep. Unsurprisingly, he did not wait Leonhard’s rejection nor heard when the latter called his name softly, cooing him even though Ginsaki had already fallen into the sharp claws of sleep.

* * *

 

Now that Ginsaki remembered, he actually did dream something that night.

Soft caresses, strong but gentle hands, a soothing voice. Despite not being an admirer of pure love, Ginsaki could relate to the hopeless romantics that caused him to retch. No wonder, he thought, they cherished those dreams like life itself.

For a moment, he felt like a caterpillar: dormant in his safe, comfortable cocoon, he waited patiently for the day when he would finally feel freedom. Gods, Ginsaki even dreamed about strong arms carrying him to a soft, silky place. ‘Well,’ he wondered, ‘sleep deprivation sure makes someone healthy suffer from the wildest hallucinations man has ever known.’

After his much-needed slumber, he felt refreshed and ready to work again.

Because, even if the fanciful hands genuinely cared for his well-being, there was nothing they could do to free Ginsaki from his self-made prison.

At least, not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1Kagema were male prostitutes from the Japan of the nineteenth-century. They could be hired through brothels and, in this case, through teahouses.  
> 2Kamiza are like the most exclusive seats of something.  
> 3Yūjo were prostitutes of a lower-grade than oiran.  
> 4Oiran, most of the time confused with geisha, were high-rank prostitutes. They were expected to know the fine arts.


	3. Makiokoru, Chapter II.

In the warm, tender-hearted afternoon of Kyoto’s rufescent fall, Leonhard found himself standing on one of the most famous teahouses of all Japan. Whether for good or bad, it was well-known for housing the most beautiful, requested kagema and oiran alike. Those who fancied them, however, had to pay and show their worth to satisfy the workers’ needs.

Unlike many of the tourists that gathered in the spot he stood in, Leonhard did know what to expect—or what he desired—before even entering. The alerting breeze of a frosty night blew over the silk curtains, causing them to flow graciously.

In the warm, tender-hearted afternoon of Kyoto’s rufescent fall, Leonhard fancied enjoying the rest of his day with Ginsaki. Now, with night no longer pressuring the latter to give up against the arms of lust, they could finally start getting along.

Leonhard took his shoes off and stepped into the building.

Then, again, the intoxicating smell of sweet incense and the scorching stares of workers and costumers greeted him alike. There he was, a day after the events of that night, looking out for the man that stole his eyes—his heart, being as free as the wind, was not convinced at all. It had a logical reason, too: why calling it love, you say, when it is nothing more than a mere seasonal attraction?

‘Snow will fall,’ Ginsaki, whose body relinquished to the touch of a stranger’s love, thought.

‘Feelings will be covered by frost. As spring blossoms, so will a vibrant, better attraction will arise,’ Leonhard sighed after that phrase loomed over his mind.

The Mistress that received him the first time had her back to him, leisurely taking a drag of her pipe with earnest pleasure. Her black hair was beautifully adorned into a chignon, a red ribbon tying it safely and flowing down her body; the Mistress’ pale skin already showed wrinkles around her mouth, age battling with youth over her. The moment she noticed Leonhard’s presence, her entire expression shifted.

From peaceful to lively, eager eyes, she welcomed him with a wide smile. “Welcome, Master General! I bet we gave you a humble-worked, well-deserved first impression. Shall I get you our most beautiful ladies, then?”

Leonhard reciprocated the smile, bowing slightly with respect. “I would like to be served a cup of your majestic tea, Mistress. Also—if I am allowed, of course—, I would like to spend another session with the kagema from the other day.”

“Oh, sure,” even though the happy light that radiated her brown eyes dispersed a bit, she kept a merry face. “Although, I am sorry to announce you that he is currently busy right now. If Master General waits long enough, he will be able to spend the night with him.”

What an unfortunate situation, indeed. For a moment, Leonhard thought the sunset would charm Ginsaki into opening up; however, fate made its move in advance.

“I do not mind,” he said, “therefore, I wish to be given access to your hall.”

“For sure, Master!” the mature lady gave him a wide smile, “I assume you desire to have him all through the night, so I’ll make sure the incense burns long enough.”

Leonhard was guided to a small table decorated with elaborate wooden designs. As soon as he took a seat on the kamiza, a waitress arrived with an elegant kettle, gracefully pouring green tea into his cup. He did not pay attention to the overly-long stare, nor minded the unnecessary, gentle fingertips staying on his hand.

After all, he only came for Ginsaki.

He took a long sip and closed his eyes. The General savoured its bitter, yet welcoming taste, tongue sweeping over his glistening lips. Inside the teahouse, time seemed to stop for the sake of pleasure—eternal, bright candles lightened the hall and the same merry atmosphere embraced the guests. Never straying away from vigorousness, ladies and men walked confidently to their costumer’s wishes.

Leonhard shook his head discreetly, nagging his thoughts to come back to reality.

Had he known what was happening in front of him, Leonhard would have happily remained in silence contemplating God’s existence. And, now that his eyes saw that, he could not focus on anything but it.

There he was, as poised as ever.

Ginsaki gently fanned his face with his left hand, head turned to the same direction as he let himself be savoured by a customer. Worshipping touches, lewd stares: almost drooling, the mature-looking man kissed Ginsaki’s right arm, from wrist to inner-elbow and back. His client, long lost to the effects of alcohol, was practically kneeling before him, desiring for Ginsaki to deign to pay attention to him.

Ginsaki, with the most monotone expression Leonhard had ever seen, cast a glance around the hall. Upon noticing the blond, the ends of Ginsaki’s mouth merely twitched upward—that, of course, would have brightened Leonhard’s day, if only he had seen it. The kagema regained his posture and, after all the silent begging, looked below.

“Oh, Ginsaki, what a beauty you are,” the man cooed him, “did you know that every woman in this land envies you? Of course not, for your pureness will not accept having you caring for such frivolous thoughts.”

The silver-haired man smirked, eyes drooping to become half-lidded with lust. “Really? You are right, I did not know about that at all. I only own knowledge on how to please strong, fierce men like you, Sir.”

Ginsaki, most of the time, held an irrational hatred for rumours; nevertheless, this time, they granted him lots of advantages in his current situation. From what he had heard, the man that kneeled before him as if his life depended on it was some sort of well-known official. He owned a privileged spot near the Emperor’s side, so the need to pamper him became an obligation Ginsaki had to follow.

‘I’ve heard he relishes on being ignored,’ whispered Hoshiko, both an oiran and a dear friend of Ginsaki. ‘He loves begging for a beautiful man to the point of shamelessly kneeling for them.’

‘Indeed, and he holds lots of power in the government,’ another oiran continued, glancing from time to time the distracted Mistress. ‘He does in bed what he does to the rebellious crowds, they say. Ranging from whips to a katana, the man sure favours the violent side of sexual intercourse.’

“Sir,” he feigned nervousness to the point of blushing delicately, “would you prefer for us to go to our room? Your charms are igniting something inside me.”

Trying to prove his point, Ginsaki took a hold of the official’s hand, both carefully and cautious, and guided it inside the loose silk of his kimono. Pressing it over his inner tight, Ginsaki prayed for the slick—that, in fact, was mere false, sticky liquid—to be enough to arouse the official and lure him to the room.

“I did not know men could get wet like women,” his client gasped at the feeling, pupils visibly dilatated. “And, indeed, I think we should be going inside.”

Ginsaki muffled a scornful laugh with his fan, happily guiding the clueless man through the crowd and into their private chamber. However, the kagema let himself fall out of his role and darted a glance at the distracted blond.

Bright, green eyes focused on the rippling waves of his green tea; tanned, sun-bathed skin radiating warmth through the hall; and the same confident, careless posture Ginsaki came to notice after their shared night.

‘Is he coming for me?’ the most delusional of his inner voices wondered, ‘was he, perhaps, truly enchanted by me?’

That small voice was shut when Hoshiko dearest approached Master General, delicate hands serving him another cup of his favourite tea. With plump, soft lips, Hoshiko started a vivid conversation with the lone blond: eyes resembling the soil beneath their feet, she quickly hooked him in.

Utter foolishness his hope babbled.

Utter, pure selfishness his heart longed for.

Nevertheless, as much as Ginsaki tried to restrain it, he could not avoid listening to the persistent, deafening ringing his ears felt whenever he crossed stares with Master General.

* * *

 

On the other side, Leonhard analysed profusely the oiran that conversed with him.

Black hair, brown eyes, and an energetic attitude. She was beautiful, just like the sun rays that brightened the dandelion fields and brought peace along its way—clearly, she was the epitome of summertime love.

Despite being pampered by her perfection, Leonhard could trace dozens of flaws that increased in size the longer he stared.

The oiran was lovesome and filled with warmth; yet the General fancied the frosting, disdainful stare of a certain someone. Both were graceful and elegant, yet that one’s manipulation brought greater results upon Leonhard. While the oiran flattered him with attention, he tucked rejection and scorn on his side to turn Leonhard inside out.

Oh, indeed, what Leonhard deeply favoured with all his might was masochism, or so it seems.

“Master General,” the oiran—or Hoshiko, as she insisted—carefully spoke, “Ginsaki sure enchanted you last night, is not it?”

The ghost of a sigh threatened his lips to get out. “You could say that.”

Hoshiko laughed softly. “Ginsaki loves getting attention from his ethereal looks, that is what everyone whispers. I cannot deny it myself, for that would make me a hypocrite friend, but I think there has to be a deeper, more interesting reason for him to crave it that much.”

“What do you mean?”

“He is cunning, manipulative, and sort of a cruel man. When something catches his eyes, he will do the impossible and further to own it, just to later abandon it as if a nuisance,” stare far, far away, she told him, “those are definitely not the desirable traits a partner must have, right? Still, as much as Ginsaki tries to make every one of his flaws disappear, he instead ignites them brighter.

“What people forget—and, dare I say, me—is that, if we want to be with our partner for a lifetime, we must not change the way they are. One shall be enamoured by both their perfection and flaws, one must understand their partner from inside to out in order to have the merriest of the lives.”

Leonhard hummed, “There must be something going on for you to tell me such private things nonchalantly.”

Hoshiko nodded, “In fact, two things have happened.”

“Am I allowed to know?”

“Only one, Sir,” Hoshiko smiled sadly, “the other one I cannot tell it myself. It is far too serious, far too delicate for me to blurt out in front of a stranger—Gods, even Ginsaki himself would not hesitate to stab you before he confesses it.”

“Well, then tell me the first one.”

“Please, consider and reflect upon the feelings you have for Ginsaki,” she said, “please, before it is too late, try to get a conclusion about this whole situation. I know what you are thinking, since no one has yet to reject Ginsaki’s experienced sessions of sexual intercourse. Also, tender-hearted affection is not something common for him to receive from clients—mere attention, as the rumours say.

“Sir, I profoundly hope you are not deceiving my friend with this sort of actions. You are a foreigner, a wanderlust traveller; therefore, you are more than fated not to stay in this land. Stop playing tricks on him, for he lacks the knowledge and matureness on how to detect someone’s lack of genuine love,” the hand that held the luxurious kettle trembled, lip quivering ever so slightly.

“He is a child when facing his emotions, and way too naïve when talking about his earnest feelings. I do not know what you have in mind, Master, yet I own a sense of responsibility regarding my only friend,” Hoshiko concluded breathlessly as a quiet tear fell from her eye.

Leonhard smiled dolefully, for he quite understood what she tried to communicate. Hoshiko did, indeed, possessed a pure, lovesome heart.

“Time will give me the best of the answers, I swear,” Leonhard covered Hoshiko’s shaking hand with his own, not even noticing the lack of Ginsaki’s presence.

“I hope Master General swears to his promise,” Hoshiko laughed in between her rueful sobs, “for I wish Ginsaki, my dearest friend, to find someone worthy enough to appreciate him for who he is.”

Hoshiko shook her head and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her kimono, inhaling and exhaling with revived liveliness. When she recollected enough composure to keep going, she gifted Leonhard one of the most expecting, sincerest laughs he has ever heard. Hoshiko parted from the General’s table, leaving behind a trail of warmth and increasing doubt behind her, inside Leonhard’s mind.

Had he said Hoshiko’s words did not make his heart clench, he would have been known as the most shameless liar of the century. Leonhard’s feelings and rationality fought inside his head, for he genuinely was not sure about his position on this situation.

Was Leonhard toying with Ginsaki all along? Was he only igniting the kagema’s illusions to a point of no return? Did he truly, genuinely, do not wanted to know Ginsaki from inside to outside?

All those questions that burned, pierced through his mind were left unanswered.

* * *

 

As soon as the incense faded away, Ginsaki emerged from the private room, his judging stare and stiff posture intimidating everyone lounging in the hall. His kimono flowed behind him, his silver hair beautifully adorned into an elaborate, intricate hairstyle.

Before he sat on his ordinary place, Hoshiko approached Ginsaki and whispered rushed words to his ear.

“The client from yesterday has been waiting for you all this time,” she covered both their faces with her red fan, “He seemed determined to stay, though. Couldn’t burden him enough.”

“What had you planned to burden him with?”

“The great responsibility that takes to conquer you in a romantic way,” Hoshiko sighed, “as much as you try to deny it, I’ve noticed. You tend to stay quiet while pleasing your clients, indeed; but at least, there’s no music playing in your chamber.

Ginsaki blinked. “You are right. However, I think I have learned my lesson from back then. Will not fall prey to anyone, nor even think about someone in that way.”

The oiran swiftly closed the fan and went to leave, but not before telling him, “just seven years more, Ginsaki. After that, you will be free to love someone.”

The kagema turned around and saw Leonhard, whose green eyes were currently closed and relaxed. Cradling a cup of tea between his hands, he let the lively, upbeat atmosphere of the hall submerge him. Ginsaki walked in a slow, quiet pace to greet the Master General.

“Was last night not enough?” Ginsaki took a seat in front of Leonhard, supporting his chin with his hand, “I thought your memory-collecting process involved a variety of prostitutes.”

“I do not like playing with many strangers.” Were Leonhard’s brief, confident words.

“Why are you messing around in a brothel, then?”

Leonhard opened one of his eyes. “I never said I did not enjoy hanging around with one stranger, though. Two or more definitely exhaust me.”

Ginsaki sneered and fidgeted with his fan. “Well, then, I may warn you now before it is too late. Different men embrace me weekly; it is part of my job. Do not expect me to be immaculate, even less a virgin.”

“That would be way too stupid for me to think.”

“I am glad we both agree,” Ginsaki paused for a brief moment, analysing Leonhard’s foreign features, “do you want to bring this matter to the chamber?”

For the first time that evening, the blond man’s eyes shone with excitement. “I am so glad you asked.” 

* * *

 

Ginsaki looked out of the window, stare far away from the chamber he was in. He sighed, not even trying to pay close attention to the anecdotes Leonhard seemed to enjoy explaining; he was simply doing what he was told to, anyways.

“This will not take too long, I swear,” Leonhard drawled, eyes fixed on the notebook he was drawing in, “inspiration arrives with no warning.”

“You will need my consent to publish this somewhere.” Ginsaki tapped his slender fingers on the table.

“Worry not, I am not an artist in any sort. I am a soldier sent from my homeland, that’s all.”

Ginsaki exhaled with boredom, trying his best to ignore the constant ringing inside his ears and the claws of drowsiness attempting to take him over. Had he known his night would turn out like this, the kagema would have stopped for the day as soon as his last client left.

However, deep inside Ginsaki’s heart, he acknowledged the real reason behind his boredom; he knew why he was currently hating that night with a passion: the silence of the moon, the soft song of the cicadas and the freezing warmth of the fall caused him to think too much.

‘What is this? What am I supposed to do? Shall I start talking? Must I keep quiet? With what can I distract myself? Is my hair neatly tied? How about my make-up, is it still on? Am I still presentable? Indeed, it is quite silent in here. Why is he even doing this? Does he have ulterior motives? What if he--?’

The buzz made his thoughts scatter around. Even though it was extremely vague and faint, it was there. It was the reason why he kept thinking and why he was at peace, ironically enough. While it indulged those infinite inquiries, it would soothe Ginsaki’s mind as if water.

The kagema tried his best not to flinch under Leonhard’s searing, weird stare. Maybe it was the latter’s intense concentration, his intimidating silence or, maybe, the fact that he could draw while not looking at his sketchbook.

After another painful thirty minutes, Leonhard stretched his limbs in an exaggerated way. “I am finished.”

Ginsaki—finally—turned his head to the blond man. Neck sore, he rubbed it with gentle fingers, kimono gracefully rolling off from his slender shoulders. After his body softened from his stiff position, Ginsaki’s naturally mischievous hands moved to the sketchbook the General had between them.

“No touching.” As quick as a cat, the General lightly slapped Ginsaki’s hand away, retrieving his book from the table.

The kagema blew air on his slapped hand, feigning pain with a wince. “Hey, why cannot I see it? I am the source of inspiration.”

“You are not seeing it until I am finished.”

Now, the silver-haired man rolled his eyes. “Gods, what are you planning to do with it? The era’s masterpiece?”

“Confidential.” Leonhard sighed and held his chin with his left hand, elbow touching the luxurious table.

Cruel enough, the foreigner resumed his determined, profound analysis on Ginsaki. Not even batting an eyelash, their blue and green eyes fought an unknown battle: while Leonhard found alluring the man’s existence alone, said man found himself torn between expressing hesitance or mere disgust.

They did not notice the candle’s flickering flame, its life slowly fading away; they did not care about the moon’s journey through the night sky, every time getting closer the endless horizon; for Heaven’s sake, they did not even sense the Gods’ judgemental eyes coming from above.

It all came down to a quiet battle of stares, both clashing and desiring to strip the other’s mind bare, open to their full understanding and appreciation.

“Let us play a game,” Leonhard tore the silence apart with a whisper, “I will ask a question and you will answer it with honesty, and vice versa.”

“If there is no benefit being received to my end, I do not see myself playing along with you.” Ginsaki did not even dare to break their eye-contact, nor tried to show his weaknesses.

Leonhard drawled, “I will ask things about you, and you will ask things about me. It is up to you whether you want to keep them a secret or start an enormous, terrible gossip that disadvantages me.”

“That same statement should I say it to you, Sir,” his fingers made circles over the table, “knowledge can be both useless and powerful. Unless you know how to use it for your own advantage, it can be a dull knife that merely serves the purpose of looking threatening.”

“Indeed,” the blond man smirked, “do you want to play along?”

“If the Gods allow it, Leonhard.”

The blond man’s smirk became a small smile, gaze becoming more relaxed and shoulders slumping in a sleepy way. On the other hand, Ginsaki shifted to a challenging, confident posture, fan opening and closing between his two hands.

“What brings you to this country, Master General?”

His once intimidating stare became an amused one, for he did not expect Ginsaki to be the one starting. “My country desires to build an alliance with yours, that is what they told me. They are bracing themselves for war, and the more powerful allies you own, the more invincible you become. I got sent as a political ‘gift’ to demonstrate both power and friendliness, if that is how you would like to see it.”

Leonhard did not miss Ginsaki’s almost mute chuckle.

“Your turn now,” the kagema whispered.

“Your name is not Ginsaki.”

“That is not a question, Sir,” he frowned, “I cannot answer statements, for you know the answer. Try again.”

“Your real name is not Ginsaki, am I right? Can I know your real name?”

 “Yes, you are. Prostitutes must not use their real names, as a matter-of-fact. Especially not in front of their clients, because men and women lending their bodies for pleasure are not worth enough to hear their names talked in a lewd, yet amorous way.”

“You did not answer my second question, though.”

“The rules never established asking more than one inquiry at the time, Leonhard,” Ginsaki closed his eyes for a moment, “very well, my turn. How long are you planning to stay in Japan?”

“I have already told you. At the moment, I ought to stay here for six months, but it may change. It may become a year, it may end up being only three months. I do not have the control over it.”

Ginsaki nodded and Leonhard sighed. The latter murmured his question, “Do you remember your family?”

“I hate talking about that,” the kagema hissed, not even hiding his utter discomfort, “however, I think I can tell you something about—”

“Do not force yourself, Gi—”

“I am not forcing myself, Sir. I will not talk if I do not want to, and interrupting me clearly ignites that desire,” a freezing fire sparkled his blue eyes, silencing Leonhard. Ginsaki cleared his throat, resuming his leisure mood. “I think I can tell you something about it, even if it comes out as vague and cold.

“My family are all foreigners, quite as much as you. Coming from far, far away, they are the reason why I am an exotic beauty. They gave me a name, sure, but no one knows it except for me and them. Gods, I daresay I now am the only one who knows about it,” he told Leonhard, leaning forward with his forearms on the table, “anyways, you. I am someone to ravish rather than someone to talk to, so, what is your real purpose?”

“I must admit it; my initial thought was to spend my night pleasing men and women alike,” the blond also leaned forward, clearly up to fight, “however, as soon as my eyes saw you, I knew you were not someone worthy¶ of only fleeting pleasure. You deserve better, Ginsaki. You are not worth a politician’s wrinkled cock.”

 “Trying to court me?”

“Not in the slightest,” Leonhard replied with honesty, their noses almost touching the closer they got to each other, the table barely separating them, “I am merely saying that your grace and class must be something to struggle for, not just a reward that can be achieved without any kind of effort.

“Being the first-rate kagema you are, you are allowed to reject clients, no matter their social status. So, why are you accepting low-lives so easily?”

It was no secret; Leonhard was trying to provoke Ginsaki during this whole conversation—and in fact, he got to see that icy hell burning through the kagema’s blue eyes, their flames burning by no other man than Leonhard. Like halfway through their session, they now battled for dominance just with their stares.

Flying, fluttering leaves met furious, roaring sea waves.

Just as the most intense part of the battle started, their foreheads brushed ever so lightly. Nevertheless, that small touch—must both daresay, a mere brush—caused something that startled both men. The buzzing Ginsaki already heard became almost unbearable, while Leonhard started to hear it and could sense it transforming into a fierce, present force.

> _Ginsaki has never bothered to sign his own name._
> 
> _N-_
> 
> _Ni-_
> 
> _Nik-_
> 
> _Ginsaki was almost sure that, through the passing of the springs and winters, he was starting to forget his own name. Although he could still write it without effort, it slowly became to feel harsh and unknown as it rolled on his tongue._
> 
> _‘We will come for you one day.’ they told him._
> 
> _Seven years have passed, and between the sunset and the dawn, he waited patiently._
> 
> _‘We will come for you one day,’ they urged, ‘please, until then, remember—’_

With a groan, Ginsaki departed himself from Leonhard, a deep frown covering his face. The men quickly touched their foreheads, both relieved and struck with horror after what they had just witnessed—or, was it sensed? Gods, Ginsaki himself did not know if Leonhard even separated from the same reason as him.

“Our heads bumped too hard,” Leonhard laughed whole-heartedly and lightly rubbed his forehead, his air-headedness not letting him hear Ginsaki’s almost disappointed sigh.

Almost, for disappointment was not the reason why Ginsaki felt the urge to kick the General out of his private room. Not out of anger—was fury the reason of his upset mood, he would have already stripped Leonhard’s confidence with mere words, instead, he felt quite sad.

Sad for being the only one sensing it.

Sad for hoping Leonhard would feel it too.

Head turning to the small wooden table resting on the right wall, the kagema stood up. He touched what was left of their fading incense, bitterly blowing on it to stop it from burning itself out. Rubbing his fingers to let the ashes fall in the incense burner, he opened the forgotten fan held in his left hand, covering his sour features with grace.

“Look, time ran out before we noticed,” Ginsaki giggled, eyes barely wrinkling with joy. “I hope my services were enough to fulfil your needs, Sir.”

Dumbfounded, Leonhard uttered, “I thought we had all night.”

“Did we not tell you? Today our teahouse closes earlier,” he patted the General’s shoulder, trying his best to get him out of the room with discretion. “I apologise for the inconvenience. Exceptional days like these only happen once per year.” Bowing slightly, Ginsaki guided his confounded client down the luxurious hallway.

“I hope this does not become an unpleasant memory for you,” Ginsaki, as if rehearsing his lines for a drama role, continued. “There are lots of teahouses and brothels in Kyoto waiting for your honourable presence. As much as we would like for you to stay, we acknowledge you do not feel the desire to be in here anymore.”

The smell of wet soil and humidity filled Leonhard’s nostrils as they neared the silk curtains. Now, he realised how much power Ginsaki’s stare held for him not to notice the crying night sky until that moment. Almost like a ragdoll, he let the kagema tie the laces of his boots, not bothering to ask further questions.

The kagema rummaged through the iron rack that held colourful umbrellas, satisfyingly taking out a blue one with warm-coloured koi carp swimming in it. He handed the umbrella to the Master General, briskly pushing the curtains away and showing him the dark, candle-lit path before them.

“I hope my services fulfilled your needs, Sir,” repeating the words Ginsaki said earlier, he now whispered them. “I hope your stay in this country keeps on being satisfying and exciting for you.”

Leonhard, once outside of the teahouse, opened the umbrella with certain hesitance. He looked at Ginsaki who stayed inside the building, head peeking outside between the silk curtains. And, to be honest, Ginsaki seemed beautifully childish and innocent.

“Can I give you your umbrella back tomorrow?” Hope mingling through his words, he asked.

The kagema shook his head. “Take it as a present from me to you,” with the poor illumination the streetlights gave out, Leonhard hardly saw Ginsaki’s wink directed to him. “I do not mind.”

Still, Leonhard liked to struggle for the things he desired.

“I have not paid you,” he remarked, “I want to praise you for your services.”

“Not necessary.”

The silver-haired man bid Leonhard a short, lukewarm farewell. Engulfing himself in the silk curtains, Ginsaki was sure he left his idealistic illusions outside of the teahouse, just how he did to his client. He drowned his dismay in the crimson walls of the building, losing himself to the lust and desires of his clients; after all, getting rid of threats before them infiltrating through one’s heart was more convenient than becoming clingy and desperate.

Blue eyes roaming through the quite desolated hall, he stiffened and went for his usual spot at the furthest kamiza, walking with his head high in the air and an aura both menacing and alluring.

“As expected from the beautiful Ginsaki,” Hoshiko, who was sitting in the kamiza closest to him, smiled.

Ginsaki hummed, the fan already wide open and hiding him from view. “I have a tight schedule. I do not have the time nor the ability to spoil a client.”

The oiran’s once happy smile shifted into a sad one, quickly yet quiet. “You know that’s not true.”

Ginsaki could not—and would not—deny it.

Because, did Ginsaki have any valid reason for him to be that upset over a client? No. Was that supposed to happen? No, especially not for a kagema. Kagema, oiran and yūjo were never meant to thread strong bonds with their clients, even less when the latter held important roles surrounding the political or economic scene.

Because, Ginsaki had long ago swore under his uncontrollable sobs that he would never fall in love again. He was told dozens of stories about soulmates and the wonderful, indescribable feeling of pure love that he would eventually experience; from his earliest years until now, Ginsaki heard them all, admiringly.

If only he had known better.

Now, if someone was to tell him the same foolishness again, he would laugh. Laugh, laugh bitterly until the heavy droplets that burned his cheeks wrung him dry. Laugh, and laugh again until his life withered away with loneliness on its side.

Beautiful, legendary Ginsaki was as hopeless and delusional as always.

Turning to Hoshiko, he whispered. “I have always known that is not true.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates have never been regular, so expect them to be even more irregular from now on. School has just started and I am nearing college, so I am panicking. Unbeta-ed as always.


	4. Makiokoru, Chapter III.

One week has passed after the last time Ginsaki saw the Master General, and no one could decipher whether he was happier or angrier.

From Hoshiko’s perspective, Ginsaki quietly mourned the loss of a fleeting, seasonal platonic love. He was smiling as usual, indeed, but he had never expressed joy in his eyes. Ginsaki was mourning for something, yet he refused to acknowledge it—that is if he has even noticed what he was upset for.

From the Mistress’ perspective, Ginsaki became less hard to work with. During the last week, he quickly made up for his client’s waste of time after his whole _performance_ with the foreigner. Hushed flirtations and playful touches pleased Ginsaki’s clients for a while, the mere thought of what was going to happen igniting their libidos. Then, they would leave the teahouse, satisfaction written all over their features, thanking the Gods for the opportunity of bedding the beautiful kagema.

On Ginsaki’s side, there was nothing.

Days passed ordinarily, clients bedded him ordinarily, and his increasing boredom remained ordinarily. Everything went back to how it used to be, and Ginsaki could not feel more relieved.

Did he really feel that relieved, though?

“Why are you going to the market, anyway?” Hoshiko leaned on the doorframe, eyes staring expectantly at Ginsaki brushing his long, silver hair.

“I feel trapped in here,” the kagema replied shortly, skilful hands braiding his hair and tying it into a chignon. “I need to breathe some fresh air. It has been a while since I last caused problems to the Mistress, too, so why not? I also need to buy certain things.”

The oiran rolled her eyes, “Don’t bother innocent people.”

“I have _never_ done that in my life, no need to warn me about that.” The trace of a devilish smile slid across his lips, quickly fading away as the owner of said lips covered his hair with a plain cloth, tying it under his chin.

In the chilling, bright red hue of fall, the yukata Ginsaki was wearing did not serve the purpose of protecting him from the rapidly increasing cold breezes. Still, it was not as if the kagema minded, not even a bit. Therefore, he purposefully chose the most vibrant yukata he could find on the teahouse, relying on its bright colours to hide from the crowd—as ironic as it sounded.

Madness splurges happened from time to time, from the poorest, humble villages to the most luxurious, extravagant cities: appearing out of nowhere like those enigmatic, mythical spirits people relished on whispering; or casually summoned by certain seasons, driven by the warm and icing hues that tainted the sky. Villagers and officials became accustomed, and it soon became something to frown upon rather than to cower from; to laugh and point fingers at, rather than being a supporting hand.

It was easier to be mocked with pure malice than with envy hiding behind every sneer, so Ginsaki went along with it. Bright colours stood out amongst the falling red leaves, and not it the best of the ways—peers would turn their heads, sure, yet they were not willing to remember a lunatic, barely looking at him more than twice.

The kagema would turn said prejudice to his own benefit, so he did not even mind.

Not even a bit.

Ginsaki made his way to the grove behind the teahouse. The broad trees and tall grass engulfed him in a fresh, calm state of mind. Even though it was not going to be for long, he let himself relish on it until the very end. The secrecy of the grove made Ginsaki feel finally safe, and its natural quietness made him not wanting to leave. His wooden sandals broke through the silence, leaving behind the traces of human activity as he kept walking.

It was quite a strategic path for Ginsaki. Although the grove was located in the centre of the city, almost no one dared to step on it. It also served as a shortcut from the market to the red district, holding some sort of taboo through its dense tree canopies. Varying from drunken men to curious travellers, the small forest had yet to receive the permanent footprints of humans.

After twenty minutes of endless walking, Ginsaki caught traces of the main city through the gaps between the trees, but still too far away to hear the busy streets and shouting vendors. Thin, rebellious strands of silver hair freed themselves from the cloth he wore on his head; his pale cheeks now had a rosy, charming shade on them; and his yukata was starting to slide off from his left shoulder.

Had not anyone known better about the kagema, they would have thought he was a lively, handsome yet insane villager going out to buy some groceries.

Ginsaki lifted a weak branch that blocked his view, allowing himself to get out from the secluded forest. The bright, cooling warmth of the Sun greeted him with arms wide open, illuminating yet lending out an eerie, freezing feeling in-between its long, frisky fingers.

The white-haired man sighed, making his way through the cramped, diverse stalls that adorned the main street. Most offered food, some bargained with loud voices, and others benefited from threading lies and fraud through their services. He could feel the scorching gazes of those behind him, yet he did not have the need to flinch from them; they were beyond annoying, sure, but still bearable.

“What’s he looking for?” they whispered near him.

“Someone sane wouldn’t wander around like that.” They murmured further.

“A half-blood, that is? What a disgrace, that is, such looks worn by a lunatic.” They sneered far, far away.

The kagema himself, with crude honesty, really found it entertaining. Just as he caressed the mature, fresh-looking apple between his fingertips, only the most acceptable side of its rotting insides made it to the outside. Hiding beneath beautiful, intricate colours, there persisted ugliness, horror.

‘People are just hypocrites.’

Relishing the light breeze that brushed his rosy cheeks, Ginsaki kept on looking through the stalls. His feet felt light as if walking over the softest of fabrics, and his head was, currently, travelling to somewhere out of the filthy hands of humanity—yet, Ginsaki was still wary enough not to bump into a stranger’s back. Blue eyes were open and gliding along, but, at the same time, he was not seeing anything at all.

Those strolls, that disassociation from his surroundings he experienced brought Ginsaki peace above all things. To stop minding and simply, easily, quietly exist. To breathe, to blink, to swallow for the sake of staying alive, for his own sake; not because someone taught him or forced him to, merely because he desired to.

Overall, he obsessively liked his time alone.

At some point during his aimless wandering, Ginsaki came across a small yet eye-catching stall. A fabric-specialised one, it seemed. Colourful cloth hanged from its wooden roof, resembling the plumage of a strong, prideful bird seeking dominance. On its counter laid an endless river of fabric, some soft and others rough to the touch; however, it still was not enough to lessen its quiet charm.

Ginsaki—after being given the permission, of course—let his fingers draw a path through the cloth. The finesse to which he moved gave out the impressive absence of sound and the slowness to which he guided his hand almost made time stop. His fingers swam surrounded by red, blue and white hues, the different texture every cloth had drowned them in.

His roaming eyes, however, came to a halt.

Catching his attention was not complicated, yet maintaining it seemed almost impossible. Still, that single piece of fabric enchanted him beyond the level of words.

Being used to pools of cloth, Ginsaki could easily tell it was velvet. The black background resembled that of the night, starry sky, a luxurious yet intimidating aura lending out to the foreigners to be entranced at. In spite of that, its black was not the reason why it allured him—Ginsaki has never liked that colour at all.

Swallowing the majestic background whole, the flowers bloomed and shone through. Although they were a royal dark blue, they stood out from its cold colour palette. Sharp and outstanding, nonetheless delicate and shy petals conquered Ginsaki’s eyesight and heart.

With just a butterfly-like touch, he was immersed.

> _Ginsaki grew up near a pond.  
>  _
> 
> _Its eerie tranquil waters frightened him, however, he enjoyed going there.  
>  _
> 
> _Like the stars in the night sky, the nenuphars chose said pond as their canvas, filling it with bright, ethereal brush strokes. Standing out from the average, pastel-coloured ones, these nenuphars held darkness within their aura._
> 
> _They wore the colour of the night sky as skin, the shimmering stars tainting their soft petals with vibrant blue freckles. As unique as nature made them be, they were never meant to surpass the rest of the nenuphars. Even though the contrast they created against the clear water was beautiful on a sunny afternoon, the shadows of the night loomed over them and hid them from view when the moon rose to the sky._
> 
> _To possess an alluring nature just for it to be cursing against oneself. While it enchanted everyone under the sunlight, it became a bad omen when the stars reflected their soft light on its petals._
> 
> _'Such a disheartening fate, is it not?' a deep voice intruded his quiet sightseeing, delighting his ears as soon as he recognised the owner of said voice. Swiftly turning around, he ran to the voice's source and launched himself to open welcoming arms._
> 
> _His father, a man whose gentleness warmed the heart and bright smile blinded the eyes of all, made himself known with a tender embrace. Engulfing him in his blissful aura, he would have felt satisfied with his life had he died at that same moment._
> 
> _'I do not wish to own the same fate as them,' his once innocent and ignorant words tore the tranquil silence. 'I wish to shine like the other ones.'_
> 
> _His father gave him an earnest laugh, his chest rumbling softly with amusement against his tiny head. When finished, his father's smile slowly morphed into a rueful, bitter one._
> 
> _« I must be dreaming, » he thought, « Father has never had unpleasant thoughts before. »_
> 
> _'I, your father, swear upon my dearest family that you will shine, unrestrained and radiantly like the Sun itself,' intertwining his pinky finger around his son's smaller one, he promised. 'Although, they really are beautiful. I also wish you their charm, as much as you already own it.'_
> 
> _He giggled softly, his energetic body running away from his father and heading to the pond. With uttermost care, he kneeled and his small arms stretched over the water's surface, trying his best to reach the nearest nenuphar; delicately, tenderly, he stroked the soft petals while retrieving the flower._
> 
> _Looking down at its welcoming darkness, safely cradled between his pale fingers, he could not avoid judging it with his own bright, curious stare. He freed one hand from the flower and tucked a rebellious strand of long, blond hair behind his ear, fingers lingering over the spot._
> 
> _Contrary to the hostility that usually brought to people's hearts, it hypnotised him to a state of white, pure peace. It reminded him of the hot mornings he spent on the dandelion fields near his home, running around and laughing loudly with his elder sister; or of the afternoons spent in the small kitchen, helping his lovely mother and sneakily stealing a bite from the bread they had successfully prepared; or, perhaps, of the tranquil evenings when his family gathered near the hearth, telling stories and admiring his and his sister's younger, newborn sister._
> 
> _The petals gave him a fuzzy and warm feeling on his chest, exactly where his heart was located. Its aroma, both fresh and pleasant to the nose, kept on providing and flooding his mind with good memories._
> 
> _With a bright smile, he tenderly kissed the nenuphar._

"Quite beautiful, is it not?"

Ginsaki's whole body tensed, eyes wide and heart beating fast against his ribcage at the unexpected voice. His fingers unconsciously clenched on the soft fabric, almost tearing apart as he was unwillingly pulled out from his trance. He turned his head to the side, seeking the source of his surprise—or rather, facing the latter.

As if the Gods granted his wish of encountering his most feared nightmare, he stared at Leonhard's handsome, amused face.

"I apologise for scaring you," Leonhard beamed, "I genuinely thought you had already noticed my presence."

Trying to compose himself, Ginsaki breathed out a long sigh. "Master General, I should be the one apologising here. What a great surprise, indeed, for this place does not match with General's expensive tastes."

"If this market comes to you as mundane, I will most certainly not show you my favourite as of now."

Ginsaki swallowed his sneer. "Let me rephrase my chosen words, then. What are you doing here?"

"I felt like wandering around," Leonhard simply stated, shrugging, "also, I needed some fresh air after working all night. While I was strolling through some stands, I suddenly caught sight of you. I could not leave without saluting you, so here I am."

A small laugh almost left Ginsaki's lips. _Almost._ Instead, he quickly extinguished it with a frown. "You have already done so. Now you can leave peacefully."

Leonhard pouted, his childish actions getting on Ginsaki's nerves. "Oh, are you going to reject my attempts at talking with you again? You are a beast."

"That--"

Sudden realisation drowned Leonhard's merry features, leaving a frown behind. "Am I interrupting you? I am deeply sorry, seriously. What can I do to amend my mistakes? Shall I help you choose the most beautiful fabric?" Leonhard's stare came to a halt, focusing on what was held by Ginsaki.

Ginsaki blinked at him, confusion written all over his face. Then, he finally noticed the tight grip in which he held the velvet cloth; letting go, he tried to flatten the abused fabric. Sighing again, he closed his blue eyes.

"None of your business."

Although the blond's smile faded, the curiosity tainting his green eyes had yet to falter. "Oh, I know that flower! _Seilkaru_ , as everyone calls it at my country. They are extremely rare though, so stumbling upon them was out of the question. However, lucky me used to live near a pond, and they showered me with their beauty every sunny noon."

Ginsaki listened to Leonhard attentively, and he was not lying. Nonetheless, his attention stopped when the General said the flower's name out loud. He had always assumed said flowers were nameless, opting for their beauty to stick on men's head. Therefore, the act of giving such precious fragments of his memories a name was heart-warming.

« _Seilkaru, that is how he called it._ »

S-e-i-l-k-a-r-u.

Seilkaru.

"Seilkaru." He mouthed the name, involuntarily ignoring Leonhard's inquiring gaze.

" _Seilkaru._ " Ginsaki let his tongue roll it off, tasting the word and storing the feeling inside his mind. Once said out loud, it sounded graceful and melodically—his vocal cords, however, vibrated with desperate longing, desiring to grasp onto the word forever.

What a shame those precious moments never lasted eternally.

 

* * *

 

On the other hand, Leonhard was beyond intrigued by Ginsaki's actions.

The blond man noticed he had started talking to himself as soon as he lost Ginsaki's attention, but he feigned utter obliviousness. Instead, Leonhard opted for drawling his words longer than necessary, the sentences he structured lacking sense—he was concentrated staring at the kagema.

Ginsaki whispered the name of the flower, treating it as a word worth endless praise and admiration. It was an absent-minded action, yet it screamed unspoken words with passion. Leonhard, being the curious man he was, could not avoid interrupting Ginsaki's inner peace.

"Seilkaru holds a special place in your heart." It was not even a question, but a statement.

Blinking his absent state away, he lifted his head and looked at him, blue eyes wearing an unreadable facade. "You could say it does."

Silence fell upon them. It was becoming a routine for every one of their encounters—not like Leonhard minded a bit, but he still found it quite amusing. Instead of delving them into further unfriendliness, it seeped through their fragile bond and strengthened it.

Surprisingly, Ginsaki was the one who broke the silence.

"Thank you," the kagema murmured, the gratefulness filling his voice softening his features. "Thank you for giving such part of my life a name."

Leonhard did not expect that at all, not even one bit.

As much as he wanted to dwell on that moment for a lifetime, he knew he needed to say something. Ginsaki had just shown Leonhard a vulnerable side of himself, therefore, staying quiet would only scare the kagema away from opening up to him. Now, the blond needed to thank Ginsaki with words.

"I am glad my random facts finally served their purpose," Leonhard flashed him one of his brightest, happiest smiles ever.

And then, Leonhard himself was blinded by the following events.

Ginsaki, whose name was spat like poison off of everyone's mouths, smiled back.

Let Leonhard explain. He had seen enough smiles on the kagema's lips for him to be used to them, but he has never experienced a genuine, warm smile coming from him. Ginsaki would always sneer and smirk, and the smiles hidden beneath his precious fan were mostly fake; his mouth knew how to curl upwards yet it never learned how to handle an earnest one.

Gods, even the smile Ginsaki had just blinded him with had an awkward nature, surfacing free from his heart, left raw and untouched on his face for Leonhard to analyse.

And, to be completely honest, it was the moment Leonhard started to fall in love with Ginsaki's entire being—both physically and psychologically. But, well, that was something for Leonhard to think of later on.

"Why don't we go for an appetiser?" Leonhard offered, lending out his bent arm for Ginsaki to grasp. "Treat it as you will, but it is on my part."

Hesitance and desire seemed to battle inside Ginsaki's head. However, as soon as his inner conflict began, it abruptly ended with a blink of his blue eyes. Intertwining his arm with Leonhard's, Ginsaki sneered.

"Whatever."

 

* * *

 

Leisurely strolling through the city centre's streets, Ginsaki and Leonhard walked side to side ever so ordinarily. The former's grasp on Leonhard's arm had long weakened, now choosing to stay beside him as the best course of action; after all, the weather was warm enough for them not to bundle over one another.

After a while, Leonhard made himself heard. "Look," he pointed at a small, cosy-looking restaurant. "That one looks promising."

Ginsaki stared. Above the curtains covering the inside, there was a small signal adorned with the local's name. Below the latter, a group of smaller wooden planks showed the various dishes willing to be served: _ramen, soba, sushi,_ and beyond. After reading the menu, Ginsaki finally noticed his stomach rumbling, begging him to eat something—he could not blame it though, for he had not eaten anything since yesterday's night.

"Do you wish to eat traditional food?" Ginsaki asked.

"Of course I do," he grinned, dragging the kagema inside. "What kind of monster travels to another country just not to taste its cuisine?"

Once seated and waiting for their orders to arrive, they engaged in a relaxed conversation. Tracing a slender finger over the rim of his cup, Ginsaki nonchalantly talked. The free hand, however, was soon restrained with the job of holding a rosy cheek, the pressure causing it to become redder.

Leonhard would like to call it a Heaven-sent spur, but he did not know better. Leaning forward, the blond placed both elbows over the small table, eyes never leaving Ginsaki's silhouette. Leonhard was now closer to the kagema on this position to the point of being able to count his blond eyelashes without any problem; Ginsaki, on the other hand, did not seem to notice—or, Leonhard hoped, to mind.

The blond decided to study Ginsaki. As if a curse, every twist and turn on his face was angular and sharp, eerie shadows forming on his cheekbones and eyes as the restaurant's candles cast light over him. It seemed that not even the Gods desired for Ginsaki to be soft in any way. Leonhard could easily tell why people considered him ugly—both internal and externally—, yet he could not avoid wanting to bathe his face with tender kisses; sharp edges be damned.

Like the petals of Seilkaru, stardust sprayed over his pale cheeks. Given the hour of all their encounters, Leonhard had not noticed so; also, make-up made its wonders hiding that small detail. Diminutive freckles decorated both his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, creating a sharp contrast against the white canvas.

'Were you always meant to be sharp, Ginsaki?' Leonhard thought and chuckled fondly.

Just as he was about to let his gaze travel downward, he noticed the kagema was looking at him.

"Have you always stared this much?" the white-haired man whispered, the ghost of another genuine smile tracing his lips.

How could Leonhard know? He had never bothered to perceive such aspects on himself, unlike the way he did with Ginsaki.

"You tend to talk too much yourself," he retorted, resuming his earlier position far from the kagema.

As if timed, a worker arrived with their orders, placing them on the table both skillfully and gracefully. Ever so attentive, the worker refilled their cups with green tea, excusing herself with a respectful bow. Finally, bowing to his dish, Leonhard started to eat eagerly. Ginsaki reciprocated his enthusiasm with small bites himself.

In spite of their peaceful dinner, Leonhard soon became aware of the sneaky glances directed his way. Blue eyes would quietly dart to his body, but would instantly leave when he lifted his eyes from the dish. Their little game kept going for five more minutes before Leonhard sighed loudly, placing his empty rice bowl on the table.

"Is something bothering you, Ginsaki?" The General drawled.

The white-haired man stopped nibbling on a piece of meat. "Guilty as charged."

Still, the kagema kept quiet.

"Care to explain?"

Ginsaki lowered his chopsticks and folded his hands on his lap, blinking. He took his time, taking a deep breath and fidgeting with the silk of his yukata until he was ready. Once mentally prepared, he started nonchalantly—or at least, tried.

"I was wondering," he cleared his throat, "I was wondering why you stopped visiting the teahouse."

Oh, so that was it.

Leonhard suppressed the smile that was threatening to pull at his lips. "The morning after our last encounter bombarded me with lots of paperwork, you see. I worked while sunlight lasted, expecting to visit you later, but I was kindly asked to patrol the city streets at night."

And it was the truth. After spending all day locked up in his bedroom writing and reading reports, he was eager to go and talk to Ginsaki until dawn. However, as soon as he took a step outside the room, one of his soldiers approached him, pleading him to replace the former street patrol.

_"I'm not some low-rank officer," was Leonhard's simple, arrogant reply._

_"They said it's urgent, and that they're willing to offer General Kaiser a high reward."_

_Well, that was an opportunity he could not miss. "And how long will my services be required?"_

_"Four full days, Sir." Leonhard's smile faded._

_"Four full days, you say? Does that include afternoons?"_

_"It includes morning, afternoon and night, Sir."_

"And when those boring four days were over, I thought I was finally going to be able to see you again," Leonhard took a sip of his tea, hands gesturing mid-air. "But then, they generously asked me to train a big group of low-rank officers."

Then again, the courses happened to be both physically and mentally intensive, his voice becoming hoarse and his throat suffering from the shouted orders he gave all day. Leonhard felt exhausted and mildly annoyed when the course ended, resulting in falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillows.

_"The course happened the day before yesterday, mind you," Leonhard started rambling, "and when I woke up yesterday morning, I felt refreshed and reborn. I wanted to talk to you, therefore, I was planning to leave at noon. However, the odds were not on my side."_

The blond had already grabbed the blue-coloured umbrella with koi carps swimming on it, giving it an absent-minded smile and a twirl. However, his daydreams perished when he saw stacks of paper awaiting his arrival.

"I barely slept three hours," Leonhard laughed breathily, "still, I could not forgive myself if I let go another day without you. And here comes the answer to your earlier inquiry. I went to visit the marketplace because I wanted to give you a present—some sort of apology."

That definitely was not something Ginsaki expected to hear. He could think of nothing to say, so—almost—bashfully, he started to fiddle with a loosened strand of white hair coming out from the cloth on his head.

"Well, I feel deeply grateful, General Leonhard," Ginsaki retorted and took a bite from his long-forgotten piece of meat.

What was left of their dinner was enjoyed silently, and when both finished their dish, Leonhard immediately took out his money to pay. Passing through the cramped tables of the restaurant, Ginsaki and Leonhard were greeted with quite an unexpected sight.

Being the gentleman he was, Leonhard lifted the silk curtain for Ginsaki, patiently waiting for the latter to put on his wooden sandals. Eyes glued to the cowering form of the kagema, the blond man did not even register the infamous scent of fresh rain. Once he turned his head away, he became aware of the people running away from it.

"Oh," Ginsaki exclaimed, blue eyes as wide as saucers.

Recovering from the initial shock, the General swiftly took off his coat, placing it above their heads; of course, making sure it mostly covered the kagema. With a big smile, he addressed Ginsaki. "We will make a run for it."

The white-haired man took the hint, grabbing one corner of the coat with his right hand, the left one unintentionally holding onto Leonhard's arm for support. "Ready."

"Go!"

And they ran. Amongst the chaos, the sound of boots and sandals hitting the floor could be heard, taking sharp turns when trying to avoid water and mud puddles. In the midst of the chaos, loud and happy laughter could be heard, increasing in volume when someone tripped or got himself wet.

Leonhard beamed, and Ginsaki reciprocated with a small smile.

Leonhard laughed out loud, and Ginsaki reciprocated with endless giggles.

Leonhard shone cheerfully, and Ginsaki reciprocated even brighter with happiness.

When he was about to cross the street that led to the teahouse, he was stopped short with a light squeeze to his bicep. "Let's not go that way!" Ginsaki screamed, trying to outstand the heavy and loud sound of water pouring down. "I know a shortcut. Follow me!"

Leonhard let himself be guided by the kagema, relishing on the way the latter held onto him, both secure and tenderly. He led them through a secluded grove, the treetops becoming thicker the farther they ran into its core, effectively stopping the rain from soaking them more than it already did.

Gradually, their long strides became slower, shorter, until they were walking. Once both knew they were safe, they disentangled from each other and laughed. While Leonhard stretched and took deep breaths, Ginsaki went for a tree and held onto it, placing his forehead on the cold crust and panted.

The blond man was the first to recover. Lifting his head and looking to his right, he admired the kagema's rosy cheeks and exhausted smile, listening to the puffy breaths he exhaled through his mouth. Standing up, he took a pair of steps forward until he faced his companion.

"Please," Ginsaki said, lending out a long sigh. "Let's not do that again."

"Why not?" Leonhard replied, smile not faltering one bit. "It was fun."

He resigned himself to argue, letting out a breathy giggle. "Cannot deny it."

That was probably one of the most wholesome giggles Leonhard had heard. Ever. "Well, given that both of us can finally string a whole sentence, let's keep going."

At some point, Leonhard put down the drenched coat, trying to wring the cloth dry to no avail. Still, he profusely thanked the Gods for letting it protect Ginsaki from the water. He decided to fling it over his left forearm, setting the right one free for his companion to grip; and, much to his delight, the latter did.

Walking ever so ordinarily side to side, both men knew when to stop as the treetops became thinner and the drizzle acted as the aftermath upon them. Leonhard could see the large teahouse from afar, its warm colours currently dull because of the grey sky. The only thing that separated them from the building was a small meadow whose grass was wet from the rain.

It was a matter of seconds before Leonhard realised Ginsaki had led them to the back entrance of the teahouse. Sensing the General's realisation, the kagema was quick to defend himself.

"I apologise," Ginsaki cooed in an unapologetic tone, "but I was not allowed to get out of that boring place. Mistress hates me very much, you see, so she punished me with a two-week long sentence of house arrest."

"I do not think elders assign punishments out of mere hatred," Leonhard stated teasingly, remembering his young years with certain fondness. "I can only think of terrible deeds deserving it so."

"Guilty as charged."

Ginsaki finally let his grip on Leonhard's bicep waver, taking a step forward, albeit hesitantly. He turned around, wearing quite an odd expression on his blue eyes, almost—emphasizing the word _almost_ —asking the General for permission.

"You are wet." The kagema, fiddling with his yukata's collar, spoke gently.

"And so are you," exhorted Leonhard. "Stop stating what's obvious."

"It is nothing compared to you. You will get sick."

"That would be atrocious, indeed."

"You cannot leave like that."

"Who told you I cannot?" Leonhard mockingly shooed him. "Go, go, your Mistress will get angrier the more you stay here."

Ginsaki nodded, bowing a bit in the process. "I had a really good day with you, Sir. I hope you can visit me again; that is if you are willing to do so." The General grinned, his smile reassuring the kagema.

Leonhard watched quietly as Ginsaki jogged his way through the meadow, hands clasped above his head, trying his hardest not to let the cloth covering his hair fall off. He watched him getting far, far away from his grasp, his wooden sandals sinking down the wet grass. He watched him fly, soar away from where he stood, only stopping until he reached the back door and entered.

 _'Snow will fall,'_ the old saying sneered, _'feelings will be covered by frost. As spring blossoms, so will a vibrant, better attraction will arise.'_

What would happen if the blooms decorating spring's meadows were the same person from winter? Instead of letting the frost overshadow him, he wore it like a mysterious, alluring cape draped over his heart. What would happen if, by mere whim of the Gods, that seasonal love were to be more vibrant, charming and better than those bound to come?

Readjusting his drenched coat over his forearm, he turned around, giving the rufescent teahouse the last stare before retreating to his inn.

Sharp, proud, arrogant Ginsaki.

Sparkling, bashful, gentle Ginsaki.

Will the kagema ever realise that he is more than just a pretty, ravishing facade? Will he ever notice that he makes people happier with just a smile?

Leonhard chuckled to himself.

He would eventually come to his senses—and if not, Leonhard would do the impossible for him to realise his priceless worth. Yet, Leonhard was sure the latter would never discern only one thing.

That rainy, grey day filled with quiet admiration and mirthful laughs, Ginsaki retreated to the warmth of the teahouse, leaving Leonhard alone and empty-handed himself. In fact, he ended up worse than how he originally thought, dampened and beyond exhausted. Even though his bony hands could only grasp air, he now possessed something he hadn't before.

That rainy, grey day, whether willing or unwillingly, Ginsaki left with something hidden deep, profusely hidden under his sleeve.

There it was—both fragile and radiating warmth—, Leonhard's tender heart, hanging loosely on Ginsaki's finger.

 

* * *

 

Ginsaki had gotten outside from his comfort zone, way _too_ much for his liking.

Closing the door behind himself, Ginsaki heaved a long, exhausted sigh, leaning on the door and closing his blue eyes. Inhaling, exhaling, and inhaling again, another sigh was stopped dry on his throat when someone announced their presence to him.

"Mistress is so, _so_ going to kill you." Hoshiko examined Ginsaki, brown eyes travelling up and down his body.

Ginsaki gave her a wide, innocent-looking smile. "I didn't think it would pour down that fast."

Hoshiko frowned, coming closer to Ginsaki and touching his dampened yukata. "You aren't wet enough."

"Oh, well, I ran fast enough."

Deeper furrows were drawn between her eyebrows. "Run fast, my ass. I don't want Mistress to harm you, so I'll let it pass. Next time, however, you'll have to do everything I ask for a whole day."

"Deal."

The kagema kindly excused himself from Hoshiko's suspicious stare, walking on his tiptoes when passing across his Mistress' office. Once danger subsided, he made a run for his bedchamber—the one where his clients could not enter.

Engulfed in the warmth of his personal room, Ginsaki took off his yukata, tossing it on the floor; wholly bare, he rummaged through his wardrobe and pulled out a _nagajuban*,_ putting it on just before wrapping his duvet around himself and falling down his futon.

Now, in the quiet solitude of his room, he had time to reflect upon today's events.

The buzzing in his ears seemed to be both endless and annoying around Leonhard. It did not stop when they were talking, nor when they were eating, and even less when they were running away from the rain's fury—in fact, it intensified the more he strode beside the General.

Fate, being as merciless as ever, liked to watch Ginsaki's internal conflicts, more so when Leonhard dared to get near him. Therefore, when the latter decided it would be an _excellent_ idea to lean over the table and watch his every complexion with scrutinising eyes, Ginsaki entered a state of full panic.

 _'What is he doing? Men usually do not get that close to another person in public, even less to another man. What am I supposed to do, interrupt his examination? Talk me out of this?'_ At that moment, Ginsaki deeply longed to cower and quiver until the end of existence itself.

Oh, and his internal doubts only worsened in size. When Leonhard offered him his arm for him to hold onto, he almost started hyperventilating. _'Shall I accept? I want to, I desire to, but, will it bring any good? What if he ends up disliking it? Shall I grip it tighter? Or, perhaps, softer? Is my hand too cold? Is it too warm? Is it sweaty?'_

In spite of said situations, what bothered Ginsaki the most was that he could not read Leonhard at all. Deciphering people's intentions was his specialisation, yet the more he tried to do it on the older man, the more questions arose in his mind.

_'Did he like the food? Does he love his tea that much? Does he like this country? Does he enjoy his job? Why is he staying at my side? What does he see in me?'_

_'What does he think of me?'_

Ginsaki left out a shaky breath, shutting his eyes with force. He abhorred having those thoughts.

He still could not even say he _liked_ the General. Yes, he had long stopped hating him, but he still struggled when trying to tolerate him. However, the General's—intentional or not, Ginsaki could no longer tell—actions forced him to be delighted with his presence and personality.

That kindness, that cheerfulness, that tenderness the General showed to him delighted him beyond words. Because, as far as he knew, no one saw him beyond the _exotic, lavish_ facade he built on himself; because, absolutely no one desired him to talk as much as that man did.

Ginsaki was terrified.

Once upon a time, yet not so long ago, Ginsaki used to have those same thoughts and feelings. He even relished on having them; had he known better, he would not have let himself go and would have, instead, tossed them far away. He naively thought **_that man_** appreciated him as a human being, that he loved his quirks and flaws, and that he did not see him as a sex toy.

Oh, how _wrong_ he was.

Through delusional daydreaming and faux love promises, Ginsaki fell head-first in love with a certain man. Then, when he was about to confess his unyielding feelings, he had his heart broken and crushed beyond repair. Engulfed in the arms of another woman—whose looks still made him retch—, the man that once promised him unconditional love and sweet nothings, spoiled the little romanticism he had left on his core.

_"You're worth nothing, dear," the man once sneered, arm tightening around the woman's waist. "You're just a pretty face and that's about it. You can't even breed lil' ones."_

The kagema hated admitting it, but he still sobbed when he remembered that day.

_Hoshiko embraced him, her hold comforting and unyielding. She whispered hushed murmurs to his ear, her heart clenching when she heard another broken cry from his raw throat._

_"I'm worthless! I'm horrible, I'm stupid, I'm just a pretty face!" He bawled his eyes out, trembling hands pulling his white hair._

Ginsaki did not want to encounter the same fate he had once run into.

He was scared about Leonhard's true motives.

Gods, he was scared of that same searing, piercing feeling blooming over the barriers of his freezing, hostile heart. Ginsaki already knew how it felt to have one's hopes and dreams shattered, and he did not need another reminder.

"Ginsaki does not want to fall in love again." He whispered into the air, the echo bouncing against the walls of his room and filling him with nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *nagajuban: it is a simple kimono-shaped robe designed to separate the kimono from the body.
> 
> i had a small writing slump as soon as I posted the last chapter, so here I am, almost three months later, finally finishing this one. the next chapter is almost finished though, so no more long waits I guess. still, my schedule will remain as """"undefined"""", because school has been driving me crazy lately. 
> 
> un-betaed as always (if you don't count grammarly as one). feel free to roast me in the comments :).


	5. Makiokoru, IV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made a slight change to the story's setting, by the way. forget about them being in kyoto, for now they're in edo.

"What about carrots?"

"I _hate_ them."

"Roses?"

"Overrated."

"Silk?"

"Soft."

"Stepping on wet grass barefoot?"

"Weird."

Leonhard sighed, crossing out another word from his leather journal. Closing it, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on his chair. "Such a lost cause you are, Ginsaki."

"Shall I feel flattered?" Ginsaki curled his lip upward.

"If that is what you want, then, of course."

Facing each other, sitting on the metallic chairs, both let silence dominate their conversation. Upon the General's request, a reluctant-looking Mistress ordered said pair of chairs and a small table to be placed in Ginsaki's bedchamber. It held a high contrast against the room's eastern style, decorating it with a western, more minimalistic look.

As much as Ginsaki ended up liking his new ornaments, he still could not avoid cringing every time he imagined the way the _tatami_ on the floor would get damaged. It hurt a lot, to be honest.

Sneaking over his bedchamber's single yet wide window, sunrays cast light over the couple. Even though that window was not placed there on Leonhard's behalf, he still played a great role in getting it done. Ginsaki had always desired to own a window in his room—mainly for refreshing purposes after a disgusting night with a client—, so he shamelessly asked his Mistress.

_"Mistress, Madam, Lady dearest," Ginsaki cooed, blue eyes glinting with mischief. "I do not like those holes you call windows anymore."_

_His Mistress scoffed, her fair features turning ugly. "What makes you think that I'll waste my precious money for a rat like you?"_

_The kagema's trademark, infamous serpent-like gestures awakened. "Oh, did I not tell you? Master General does not like them, too. In fact, he was the one to kindly remark their hideousness."_

_"Have you finally become pliant to your client's every wish? A whore by nature, that's what you are." She laughed bitterly, taking another drag of her pipe, blowing the smoke on Ginsaki's face._

_His hand gripped the thin wrist, forcefully lowering the pipe from his face. "I may be a whore, a low-quality slut if you wish," he hissed, albeit a poisonous sweet smile was plastered on his lips. "But, at least, I do not cheat on the man that gave me such a luxurious, arrogant life."_

He then remembered with a smile how he threatened the Mistress to cut an enormous hole on the wall if his wish was not granted. Really, being a first-rate kagema had its quirks.

Snapping out from his daydream, Ginsaki saw Leonhard tugging at his blond hair, an exasperated frown adorning his handsome, manly face. Sensing his curiosity, the General groaned and grumpily explained. "Remember that portrait I was doing of you? Well, while I was giving that damned course, I happened to place my sketchbook on a bench, genuinely thinking it would be safe and sound. Then, when I came back, it disappeared!"

Ginsaki did not comment on Leonhard's sudden mood swing. Instead, he listened intently to his ramble. "Have you already asked your comrades?"

"Yes! And they all denied its existence."

Leonhard childishly rubbed his face, causing his cheeks to taint red at such rough treatment. At some point during his tantrum, he pulled his hair hard enough for him to wince. While trying to retrieve his fingers from his sore scalp, he noticed they could not come out from his tangled hair.

"Oh," Leonhard laughed sheepishly, giving his hair one last tug, successfully freeing his phalanges from his blond hair. "Now I remember."

Covering a small smile with his fan, Ginsaki replied. "What could have Sir forgotten?"

"I did not brush my hair last night."

The blond man chortled, closing his eyes and clutching his abdomen. Little did he know, Ginsaki thought, how contagious his laugh could be. During his fit of laughter, he also did not notice Ginsaki shaking his head, sighing and standing up from his chair.

"Stay where you are," commanded the kagema, a pair of green eyes opening and following his every move with curiosity.

Whenever Ginsaki looked back at that memory, he still could not decipher what had happened to him for him to do such a thing.

Opening the secret door on his bedchamber's left wall, he arrived at his desired destination. That extension was not the greatest thing of all—consisting of a wooden _ofuro_ taking most of the space, a mirror covering the head from head to toe, and a small chest with drawers that stored head accessories and scented oil. The small room was used for, mainly, only two things: when his clients requested a bath (that is if they even knew it was possible), or on emergency situations, when Ginsaki's hairstyle would crumble apart under a pair of rough hands.

Therefore, Ginsaki finding an elegant jade comb was no big surprise.

Carefully closing the door behind himself, Ginsaki felt a bit intimidated under Leonhard's intense stare. Words were really the best weapon when wanting to hide one's insecurities, the kagema pondered.

Ginsaki eyed the General, and once he decided his next set of actions, he raised his voice. "I cannot do it with you sitting over there. Go, sit on the futon."

Leonhard could only nod his head meekly, flopping down the futon and sitting cross-legged. "I'm genuinely afraid of what you are going to do as of now."

The kagema tutted, clicking his tongue on his palate. "I am not a bad person, I swear. Just, do not comment upon this nor bring it up on another conversation."

With a tad bit of effort, Ginsaki dragged one of the metal chairs to rest along the futon, facing Leonhard's broad back. It was not as if their height difference was that much: in fact, Ginsaki's head reached Leonhard's chin when standing side by side. Still, Ginsaki was not willing to stand on tiptoes for ten whole minutes while combing the man's hair.

Moving Leonhard to the place he wanted by his shoulders, the kagema hummed his approval and let the General arrange himself cross-legged.

"I'm not a small child, Ginsaki," Leonhard chuckled, although stopping short when the one behind him harshly pulled a strand of hair in warning. "Also, I'm not an old man."

"Does not seem like it," was Ginsaki's brief answer.

"Are you implying that I'm older than you think? Or younger?"

"The former sounds better to me," he drawled, profoundly concentrated on a blond knot in his shoulder-length hair.

"For your information, this body of mine has barely seen twenty-three springs on his lifespan," feigning indignation, Leonhard whined.

"Oh," Ginsaki articulated, "I thought you were way older than me."

"I _knew_ it!" he hissed, his right-hand curling into a fist and swinging it in the air. "I knew Giuliana was lying when she told me I did not look old! I knew those wrinkles around my eyes were not a fragment of my imagination."

Had Ginsaki said he did not feel a pang of jealousy on his stomach, he would have been lying. He really could not see Leonhard emotionally and romantically invested in someone—he saw him as a free wild man, owner of his destiny and running around enjoying his young adulthood—, even less with what sounded like a woman.

Speaking as soon as Leonhard finished the sentence, he inquired. "Who is Giuliana?"

"Have I not told you already?" was the General always that expressive? Ginsaki could feel the latter's confusion, amusement and glee. "She is the annoying demon I have of a younger sister. I usually write her letters once a week—well, I think I just remembered I had to reply to hers."

Ginsaki snorted, both because of Leonhard's bad memory and himself. Getting jealous over a man's sister was ridiculous by itself, and it just got preposterous when realising that the man was Ginsaki's client.

_And nothing else._

"I thought it was your lover," Ginsaki, albeit stating it with honesty, he could not stop the sneer coming out from his mouth. "Whatever, it is not as if I cared—"

_You really, really do._

"—enough. Returning to our previous topic, I would like to add something else. I do not think you want to know—,"

_You hope he wants, he longs to know._

He rolled his eyes and huffed. "—but, this body of mine has seen eighteen springs."

Had Ginsaki been facing Leonhard at that moment, he would have seen the blond man beam with extreme happiness. Nevertheless, he still felt Leonhard's small jump and his increasing glee. "Eighteen? Well, when I was your age, I would have _killed_ just for getting the beauty you own. I assure you, I will always remember your age."

"Now you sound like an old man."

This time, Ginsaki could not hide his small giggle on time. As soon as he saw Leonhard starting to shine with bliss, he swiftly resumed his ministrations and regained his serene mien.

Unbeknownst to the kagema, he had long discarded the tool and decided to comb Leonhard's soft, blond hair with his fingers. When he reached his scalp, his slender fingers tenderly stroked it, trying to find sneaky knots that tried to hide from his grasp. Suddenly, he felt Leonhard shudder visibly and slump against his lap like a ragdoll.

"I apologise," the General murmured sleepily, "it is a weak spot."

Instead of stopping— _he did not know why he did not_ —, Ginsaki now used his two hands to caress Leonhard's whole skull. Sometimes, rubbing behind his ears would ignite a pleased sigh from the man; other times, when he brought his fingers back to the scalp, Leonhard would almost moan in delight.

However, the place he most enjoyed stroking was the centre of his skull, just where the hair would born. It greatly amused Ginsaki how, with a touch as soft as butterfly's wings, it would melt the General: the man was purring by the time the kagema finished his ministrations.

Still, he did not stop.

Both engulfed themselves in the warmth of the moment, letting the hours pass by and the sun hide over the horizon.

The buzzing in his ears had never stopped and it had increased in intensity as the days passed. Ginsaki thought he would grow used to the head-splitting migraines and nausea waves it left on the aftermath, but it seemed as if it urged Ginsaki to do something about it.

 

> _He would sometimes sigh, absolutely enthralled with happy, love-filled endings._

As if lightning cracking open his skull, Ginsaki flinched. 'No,' he shouted desperately inside his head. 'I thought it would not happen again.'

 

> _He opened his eyes. There_ he _was, hand stretched toward him, waiting for him with a bright smile.  
>  _
> 
> _'Come with me—'_

He removed his hands from Leonhard's hair, placing them instead on his temples.

 

> _There she was, sparkling blue eyes rippling with fondness and admiration. Stretching out her small hand, she looked out for permission._
> 
> _'Come with us—'_

 

"Is something wrong, Ginsaki?" Leonhard, now face to face with Ginsaki, asked with worry threading around his words.

"It is a trivial matter," the kagema winced, straight posture not once faltering. "A migraine, nothing too worrying."

"You are still too young to suffer from migraines," he stated matter-of-factly.

"I am not sick; they started two months ago, and they have not stopped since then." 'And they started the day you entered into my life,' Ginsaki had to bit his tongue not to say those words out loud.

"Stress?"

"Yes, I assume." 'As if.'

* * *

 

Leonhard was an active man, always striving for that mesmerising feeling of adrenaline rushing through his veins. Joining his country's army was an action made just to pursue said thing, and him travelling to a whole new country had been an act absolutely spurred by it.

His sister, Giuliana dearest, only looked at him with complete disbelief. Her hazel eyes widened and, while loudly scolding Leonhard for such reckless decisions, he could trace sadness spreading on her complexion. Slumping shoulders, avoiding eye contact, wavering voice, and increasing shivers down her spine.

_"Don't go," she pleaded, voice finally cracking. "What if this time's the good one? What if you finally leave?"_

_"I will come back," his eyelids drooped, feeling Giuliana's misery despite not standing that close from each other. He could not hide his sad smile, nor feign happiness from her. "I pursue adrenaline, yet I wouldn't leave my loved ones just for that."_

_She laughed softly and wiped her tears off her face. "Who will take care of you now? You'll die as soon as you step on dry land, you twat."_

_Leonhard ruffled her wild, curly red hair. "I promise I'll send you letters just to let you know I'm still alive. However, I think you'll end up forgetting about me—that Friedrich of yours sure's keeping you busy, eh."_

_"Forget it. Now I'm glad you're going away." Blushing madly, Giuliana punched him on the chest before embracing him one last time. "I hope you'll never come back."_

Leonhard was a simple man: pursuing that tender, unforsaken feeling of adrenaline rushing through his bloodstream, he relished on getting out of his comfort zone just to embrace that feeling once again. Although, he was also a loyal, family-centred man: he loved when, after a long training session, he came back home and was greeted with his sister's heart-warming complaints.

Or, as his comrades sometimes liked to say, he was a man of both worlds.

Therefore, as he ran and let the rain pour down on him, one could say he both sought adrenaline and that sentiment of belonging somewhere yet again.

Adrenaline, when escaping from the training sessions he was ought to be teaching; safeness, when reaching that lavish, exclusive teahouse where certain someone would patiently wait for him.

As of now, four months have just passed after Leonhard's first meeting with the kagema, and his enthusiasm had yet to falter one bit—quite the contrary, it seemed to be growing even more. Not that he did not mind though, adrenaline and safety were things he always welcomed a lot.

It was still fairly early: somewhere in-between noon and afternoon, adults and children alike roamed around the streets, some hiding from the rain and others enjoying getting soaked by it. Still, it was not as if Leonhard was focusing on such tiny details; after all, he needed to reach his destination before the leather bag he was holding got wet.

Circling the grove's trees, Leonhard beamed when the red teahouse showed up his line of sight. Accelerating one last time, he crossed the meadow with long strides and stretched his open palm to the wooden door that swiftly came closer to him.

Before he collided with it, someone brisked it open and a hand grasped his collar, dragging him inside. Getting rid of his shock, he was met face-to-face with a pair of scrutinising, annoyed blue eyes.

"Again?" were Ginsaki's first words.

"It was urgent; I could not wait until the evening."

Ginsaki exhaled a long, haggard sigh. "I thought Generals were not this foolish."

"Well, it is—"

Suddenly, a hand clamped his mouth shut. For the second time that day, he let himself be dragged inside an abandoned wardrobe. His back hit the furniture's furthest wall, causing it to lose its balance for a bit; Ginsaki, on the other side, cramped his way inside the wardrobe, closing the door behind himself.

Leonhard was a curious man, but he always knew when to ask questions and when to let silence flow. Instead, he started wiggling around with Ginsaki, both trying to find the best position to settle in.

"Ginsaki, where are you, for fuck's sake?" the Mistress' shrill shriek made the wooden wardrobe rattle. "I'm not finished with you—come here right now!"

The light passed through the wardrobe's narrow slit. Ginsaki happened to be in the right place for the light ray to illuminate his pale face, and Leonhard looked at him just in time to see him cringe slightly.

A questioning gaze.

A hesitant shrug.

"I swear, if I hadn't got paid for your expenses in advance, I would've already kicked you out, you useless piece of shit." The sound of drawers being banged closed deafened Leonhard.

"Madam, please, calm down," an unknown, soothing feminine voice reached the blond's ears, intriguing him further. "You already know his ways, and letting them affect you pleases him beyond question. He is a young boy, unruly at its finest; you should not try to amend his temperament, it is a lost cause."

The Mistress sighed, "That brat sure is spoiled rotten despite his current situation. Well, I'll wait for him at the front door: he already knows there's a harsh punishment waiting for him."

Footsteps echoed against the walls, going far away until they disappeared along with the rain's fury. Once they could no longer hear the woman's huffs and hisses, the unknown voice cleared her throat.

"Remember, Ginsaki, you owe me one," she trailed off as if expecting something.

The kagema gently nudged him with his bony elbow. Catching the hint, Leonhard pressed himself on the wooden wall and let Ginsaki open the door, slipping his way out of the wardrobe.

Although, Leonhard noticed, the kagema casually closed the door abruptly as an attempt of not letting the General get discovered by the unknown woman.

Peeking through the slit, the General saw that the woman was older than Ginsaki and Hoshiko, yet held a graceful mien and beautiful features. "I am deeply grateful, elder sister. Will arranging your kimonos by colour will be enough for covering my debt?"

She clicked her tongue against her palate, deep in thought. "Please, sew my rotten fans and everything will be settled."

"Fine by me," Ginsaki bowed, "I cannot stop thanking you, elder sister. I hope the Gods bless you with years full of fortune."

"No need, you can count on me anytime," Leonhard saw her ruffling Ginsaki's silver hair, causing it to get dishevelled. "You should stop angering Mistress dearest, Ginsaki. At this rate, she will eventually explode and not even Hoshiko will stop her from doing horrible things to you."

'Does that mean that the Mistress already does bad things to Ginsaki?' Leonhard thought, worry creeping its way toward his brows, forming a frown.

Bowing repeatedly several times, Ginsaki bid her farewell.

Then, once Ginsaki heard the woman's footsteps far away, he finally opened the wardrobe's door and let Leonhard out. The latter blew the dust off his sleeve and, now that he was free to talk, his mouth simply moved along his brain.

"What did you do to anger your Mistress that much?" was his first question.

"Nothing too serious, really," Ginsaki fiddled with his hair, curling it around his finger and looking intently at the floor. "I just happened to skip this morning's lesson—an important one, or so she says. However, I do not think I need them, I am already excellent at playing the zither."

"That is the third time this week," Leonhard shook his head fondly, his frown never once leaving his brows. "I am scared for your well-being."

"I have already survived three years," he chuckled, "there is nothing I cannot endure now, so do not worry."

"And, by the way, you should not be the one worrying. Look at you, all drenched like a stray dog," wrinkling his nose, he slowly guided Leonhard to his private bedchamber. "I do not want the police to imprison me for murdering an official for negligence."

The General had been introduced to Ginsaki's private room a month ago—of course, quite hesitantly. He had once arrived at the teahouse with several cuts on the back of his hands, oozing blood onto the tatami while wearing a cold expression. Ginsaki, probably more worried about the tatami than his state, he hurried Leonhard inside and lead him to his bedchamber, tending his wounds with an unreadable stare.

So, he had become long used to the path leading up to Ginsaki's room.

Standing on their tiptoes, they climbed the stairs and quietly rushed to the kagema's room.

From his position behind Ginsaki's moving silhouette, Leonhard could witness his kimono dragging behind him like a tail. It could be considered as a careless, childish act; yet, for Leonhard, Ginsaki did it with such finesse that it looked graceful, pure. As if he was still a small child, craving for his parent's attention and longing for playing outside and relish on the soft breeze.

Leonhard was well aware of Ginsaki's cut-short childhood, and even as of now, the traces of a restrained youth forced to grow mature and beautiful bloomed from his serpent-like personality.

They arrived at Ginsaki's room, warmth trapped in-between its pale walls. On the tatami, a zither laid peacefully and expectantly, waiting for its master to return and handle it with ease. Besides the zither, however, Hoshiko sat elegantly, posture straight as her hands gently flowed on her zither's cords, tuning it.

Were one to forget the current mess the room was in—an unmade futon showered in dozens of luxurious fans; walls tainted the colour of corruption as ink and pieces of paper flooded it, hundreds of sketches and paintings decorating it almost despicably; and, on top of it all, an increasing pile of thrown kimonos slacking off merrily on one of the room's corners—, it would then be considered as _abstractly_ pleasing to the eye.

"Even our elder sisters have grown used to Master General's drenched appearance," were Hoshiko's first, chuckled words. Staring outside the window, she grimaced at the unmerciful pour drowning the city's silence. "I hope it really is an urgent matter, Sir. Getting you ill over this rain would probably end up with some beheadments."

Leonhard laughed. "I've got both of you. I doubt something will ever happen to me."

Retrieving a white towel from a drawer, Ginsaki said. "You think too highly of us, Sir Leonhard. I am afraid we will eventually disappoint you—we are no Gods, after all."

"Your expertise is more than enough for me." Although Leonhard directed said phrase to both friends, he could not avoid staring at Ginsaki during his reply; he hoped his words would reach Ginsaki alone.

"He's flattering us, Ginsaki. Accept it."

"Whatever," blue eyes rolling, he approached Leonhard and started wiping his hair. "Please, General, remove your clothes, they will not be of any use right now."

Feigning sudden bashfulness, he went behind the room's screen located next to the window. "Do not look, you guys, I will get all embarrassed."

He could almost hear another one of Ginsaki's trademark eye rolls.

Carefully lowering his leather bag to the floor, he removed his clothes with surprising swiftness. As soon as he let his last garment fall, he saw a pale hand hanging a cloth over the screen.

"Use it while yours dry off," Ginsaki mumbled.

Leonhard put on the kimono, its red and black colours giving him a more mature look on his features. Once on the other side of the screen, he gratefully lent his clothes to Ginsaki, letting him hang them from the screen.

It looked as if Ginsaki had to explain his own actions. "I will place them here for obvious reasons. The window is not wide enough for it to protect your clothes from the rain."

He nodded, eyes soft and smile sweet. "I'm deeply grateful for your putting up with me."

The answer was simple and matter-of-factly. "No problem."

The General made himself home beside Hoshiko, sitting cross-legged and quietly admiring the oiran and kagema's concentrated features as they resumed their previous task.

Even though the act of tuning one's instrument could be seen as raw and something not worth watching, Leonhard could only stare agape as they achieved the impossible: soft, tender hands plucking the strings and murmurs exchanged from both sides, he could easily decipher an improvised song flowing through the zithers. Seeing someone sculpturing a clumsy zither into the well-known, majestical instrument it became was beyond stunning.

"Let us play _hana_." Vibrated stern yet gentle Hoshiko's voice.

A hum of approval, explaining more than words themselves.

As if magic gathering all around the cosy room, the cords produced a heart-warming melody. Sweet and childish in its own ethereal way, it could easily transport anyone that heard it into an old, long-forgotten memory of past childhood. Just like its title, precious moments would bloom at one's head, filling them with joy as a nostalgic shiver ran up their spines.

Leonhard could have died at that very moment and he would not have noticed, for he was beyond entranced with the song.

The momentum did not last long though. Leonhard crashed hard, his senses deeply disturbed by a shrill, out-of-place note that hurt the trio's ears. Hoshiko grimaced, Ginsaki cringed, and Leonhard groaned.

"We deeply apologise, Master General," Hoshiko offered him a small smile, "I guess our instruments were still not ready."

Ginsaki nodded in agreement. "I am sure there is something wrong with them. We have been trying to tune them almost all day to no avail, and it is genuinely driving me mad."

"How about taking a break?" Leonhard suggested, hands gesturing in the air. "Maybe, just maybe, rest will lighten both of you—or, at least, that is how it works for me."

"To relax and distract ourselves from the task in hand, just for the power of the Gods to illuminate our minds? That is—"

Seeing Ginsaki's wrinkled nose, Hoshiko interrupted smoothly. "That is wise of you to say, Master General," both, albeit one reluctantly, relaxed their stiff shoulders. "Let us rest and continue later."

Hoshiko stood up, heading straight to a wooden furniture, opening a drawer and taking out an elegant-looking box. As graceful as an oiran was trained to be, she sat down and opened the box, showing its contents to the men in the room.

"These are biscuits brought from somewhere in Europe," naiveness tinted her words, almost as if doing it on purpose. "A small snack shall do all of us good."

Falling into the claws of a tender silence, the small group ate their worries away. While Hoshiko and Leonhard alike insisted on trying all the biscuits, Ginsaki selected only those he had tasted previously—and, of course, liked. Leonhard's stare softened as he experienced traces of the kagema's quirks and flaws, especially when Ginsaki frowned in disgust or sighed in delight.

Still, their small break did not last long. Hoshiko, while nibbling on a biscuit, unexpectedly winced and swallowed the rest, her features turning sour. Said mood swing did not go unnoticed by Leonhard and Ginsaki, and they were quick to question.

"Is something wrong, Hoshiko?" Leonhard inquired.

"Did you get enlightened?" Ginsaki asked sarcastically.

The oiran shook her head, shutting her brown eyes closed, plump lips trembling. "O-oh, nothing of that sort. I just happened to remember some news not so sweet to the mind." Leonhard perceived her small side-glance at the kagema.

"Care to tell?" Ginsaki's curiosity won over his mock disinterest.

"Yes, I do," she gulped, hands fidgeting with the silk of her kimono. "However, I do not think _you_ will like to hear them."

The kagema snorted. "Oh, worry not, I do not think anything will impress me anymore."

Leonhard quietly looked at Hoshiko's increasing distress and Ginsaki's eternal nonchalance. He knew his words would be of no use, therefore, silence was the best he could keep at the moment—and, as much as his curiosity struggled to know, he did not want to interfere.

"I do not want to intrude on your conversation," he was quick to add, "I can go to the loo if you wish."

"Do not worry," was Hoshiko's brief reply. However, she added something a second later, spoken so quick that Leonhard barely understood it. "You, especially you, need to hear it."

Analysing Ginsaki's frown and confused stare, both Leonhard and the oiran acknowledged the kagema's lack of understanding. Not that they minded, really.

Hoshiko cleared her throat and started speaking. "Well— _how shall I start?_ —, while I was training the yūjo yesterday noon, I happened to have heard one of our elder sisters gossiping something to a kagema," she now fiddled with a biscuit, "she murmured _,—_ "

_"Brother, first and foremost, promise me you will not tell anyone about this," the oiran, upon seeing the kagema nod feverishly, continued. "Especially that_ damned _kagema."_

_Hoshiko lifted her head, the venomous words catching her attention. She casually walked closer to the couple, making sure she looked concentrated enough on teaching the smaller girls._

_"Well, when going to my requested date, I saw something quite interesting. Patrolling the teahouse from the outside, Officer Oshiro seemed intended on entering this place. I paid it no mind, thinking he was just on a duty. However, as soon as came back from my date, I—of course—had to report my day to Mistress dearest. I came closer to her door and, carefully placing my ear to the wood, I could hear hushed murmurs from inside._

_"They were brief, direct and quite hostile. I thought it was a dissatisfied client, but then I recognised Officer Oshiro's voice. 'That foreign General has scheduled and paid in advance all of Ginsaki's hours until next month,' Mistress said. 'I don't care, I want a date with him whatsoever.'"_

_The kagema gasped, covering his mouth in surprise. "Is Officer Oshiro desiring to meet him again? Didn't they leave on bad terms? Hell, isn't Oshiro married already?"_

_"That was what I thought, too—"_

_Hoshiko almost dropped the tea kettle she had been carefully serving._

_"—but, I suppose, his marriage is not going as merrily as they promised it should."_

It was now Ginsaki's turn to swallow dryly. Casting a quick glance at Leonhard, he surprisingly stumbled over his own words. "Was a date settled?"

"They noticed my eavesdropping and left," Hoshiko smiled sadly, cheeks flaring red. "However, I heard that they only laid assumptions on the table; still, they have the desired date settled—"

Ginsaki interrupted, anxiety creeping in his tone. "What is it?"

"—They want you to meet him as soon as spring arrives. If not, even earlier."

If tension were to be a tangible substance, its sharp claws would have already strangled the group to death. It would have a looming presence, nearing and intimidating them shamelessly, not even letting them breathe before pouncing like a beast. The news settled in, or they tried to, their frowns visible.

"Officer Oshiro? I think I know him." apart from trying to break the ice, Leonhard had already heard that surname before. If he remembered correctly, he had trained said officer several times before.

She grabbed another biscuit, chewing on it quietly. "Well, now you know what we think about him."

Ginsaki did not try to tease her, even less speak.

"I am quite sure you do not have a close relationship with him," Leonhard blurted, his mouth no longer working along with his brain—speaking nonsense on tense situations was his speciality after all, and he was no wise man. "And by the looks of it, I dare say he is not a good man."

The kagema narrowed his eyes, glancing at him with what looked like contempt. "You could say that."

Outside the window, the rain had long subsided, leaving the old drizzle behind on its aftermath. Winter had already arrived at this stage, yet fall still struggled on having one last breath, causing the sky to pour and become moody throughout the day. It was exactly that time of the year where people rustled around their wardrobes, searching desperately for thicker clothes and warmer duvets.

In an act of quick speed, Hoshiko rose to her feet, picking up her zither and the empty wooden box. "I think I should retreat to my room—girls need more time to get ready, or that is how the saying goes, I guess. I will have to leave you alone, for my beauty ritual needs to start about now."

Ginsaki waved her off distractedly, not even bothering to accompany her to the door. Leonhard, on the other hand, meekly bowed respectfully at her.

When they heard her footsteps fading away, Ginsaki finally let his head fall between his hands, heaving a long sigh. Leonhard approached him, kneeling at his side and staring, expectant.

"Do you wish for me to go?" The General asked softly, an unsure hand lifting and tucking a strand of silver hair behind Ginsaki's ear. "I think you would appreciate some time alone."

The kagema shook his head.

"Well then, what can I do for you?" His soothing tone made Ginsaki's shoulders visibly slump, his straight column gradually cowering in... Worry? Anger? Sadness? The man was beyond unreadable at this point. "Keeping my mouth shut?"

Another shake. Both stayed quiet until, removing his hands from his face, Ginsaki turned around and faced Leonhard. "Do you want me to tell you what is wrong?"

"I do not want to force you, though."

"You won't," the kagema replied, doubt swimming in those blue eyes. "Just promise me something."

Leonhard raised his hand and placed it on his chest and over his heart. "You could literally ask anything of me and I would do the impossible for accomplishing it."

"Absolutely everything, you say?" Ginsaki gave him a small smile.

"I do not exaggerate things, either."

"What a man of honour you are, General Kaiser," the silver-haired man's words wobbled a bit, quiet resolve, growing admiration, and looming melancholy tainting them unpure. "Truly admirable."

The weakness Ginsaki was showing to him worried Leonhard to death. "Albeit I do not think that way, I sure can say that you should not fear to trust in me."

"I never said I didn't," no longer hearing the formality that threaded through Ginsaki's facade, Leonhard felt his heart thumping even harden—with worry, nerves, or love, he did not know anymore. "Please, Leonhard, promise me you will not be disgusted after listening to me."

Leonhard, then again, blurted out, quick and decided. "I would never do it. Me being disgusting by you is more than impossible—non-existent, may I say the least."

Ginsaki clenched his eyes shut, forming fists with his two hands on his lap. "Please, just promise it."

"I promise."

_

_His pale hands excitedly brushed his long silver hair, a big and radiant smile plastered on his face. He gripped the comb harder every time he remembered the Official's handsome, strong body; he giggled out loud every time he remembered the Official's big, calloused hands caressed him softly in the dead of the night; he sighed completely enamoured every time he remembered the Official's baritone, soothing voice whispering near his ear._

_Ever since the day he first arrived at Edo, scornful grey clouds loomed above him, covering the Sun he had once loved and the stars that he had once gleefully let them shine on his blue eyes. He no longer had a family to come home to—Gods, he had no longer a place to call home, not even a close one. Fully acknowledging that he had to live with his despicable aunt from now on, it felt as if his once colourful, vibrant world dulled out before his eyes._

_From the day he arrived until now, all the smiles that adorned his lips were mere products of carefully planned, endlessly practised hours spent looking at a mirror, forcing his cheeks to fold upward and show his teeth. Not even Hoshiko, not even some elder sisters that tolerated his existence, made his life less mournful._

_He had always strived for colours, that was what his Father dearest used to tell him. He longed to look up at the sky, arms stretched open and smile wide, and let the bright Sun engulf him in eternal, intangible happiness._

_He could not—and would not—deny it, for his Father was an extremely wise man, knowing what to say on every situation and granting him the most wholesome, purest smiles he had ever seen before._

_So, when he met the Officer one dull, lifeless night, he felt as if his world was painted with long-forgotten colours again.  
_

_Looking at his reflection on the mirror, he could finally recognise his blue eyes, tinkling softly against the soft light of the bright red candles. He could finally see the vibrant colours of the kimonos he wore on a daily basis, ranging from jet black to pure white. And, most important of all, he saw for the first time those warm, tender brown eyes looking at him._

_The Officer made him come back alive again._

_Therefore, there he was, getting prepared and pretty for his arranged date with the Officer. Giving some glamour to his straight hair, his mouth recited over and over again the phrases he wished to tell the man he had, oh, so madly fell in love with._

_'I want to spend the rest of my life with you.'_

_'I admire you, I worship you, I want to cherish you forever.'_

_'It's you, only you.'_

_'I want you to know me fully, whole, raw.'_

_'My name is...'_

_Mouthing his name, he felt shivers running down his spine, his heart thumping loudly against his ribcage. Butterflies fluttered inside his stomach, his slender legs trembling both nervously and excitedly at the mere thought of his dearest Official engulfing him in his strong arms upon hearing his confession._

_How he would kiss his forehead, whispering mutual affection to his ear, cooing him with sweet words. How he would carry him inside his home, his touch leaving a trail of fire and desire all over his skin. How would he, beautifully and expertly, let his carnal desires go and trap them in the wide-open arms of pleasure and love._

_He smiled brightly one last time at the mirror, his hair flowing gracefully behind his back and his kimono accentuating his thin, small body._

_Umbrella in hand, he got out of the teahouse and went to their assigned meeting. As much as he now loved the Sun casting her light over his pale skin, he desired to look impeccable and pristine when encountering the man who stole his heart.  
_

_Trying to calm his ragged breaths, he approached the small, cosy temple surrounded by cherry trees and peach blossoms. His eyes widened and his face lit up when his line of sight caught the Officer's silhouette, tall and broad and emitting an aura full of authority and heart-warming feelings._

_Even though he could only see his broad back, he fell harder the more seconds passed.  
_

_The words he longed to blurt out in front of the Officer were threatening to get out of his throat, with such impetuous force that they were about to come out with a loud, piercing yet charming shout._

_Quickening his steps while struggling with his kimono's restraints, he made his way to the entrance of the temple, just where the stone path and the largest torii met._

_Those sweet, sweet words his mouth longed to say were now about to be let out._

_'Officer Oshiro, my name is—!'_

_He stopped dead in his tracks, noticing a pair of arms wrapped tight around his beloved Officer's neck. Slender and pale, they entangled the latter into a venomous, alluring trap. His strong arms, in return, embraced the thin body—a hug which, by the way, should only be_ his.

_Once the couple turned around to regard him, he now could recognise who was the stealer of Officer's warm, vigorous embraces._

_She was an arrogant, air-headed juyo that had arrived merely three months prior to that very moment. However, as inexperienced as she was on their field, she had mesmerised thousands of men with her soil-rich brown eyes, pale complexion and soft, delicate curves ornamenting her petite body.  
_

_« I apologise, » One day, he stated proudly, « but, in my honest opinion, she is preposterous to the eye and beyond unpleasing upon talking to her. An ignorant, foolish woman whose only skill is to open her legs wide and let men pound into her. »_

_The people surrounding him laughed along with him, utterly pleased with his sneers and huffs. Little did they know that he was the same as that woman, or worse._

_That is why, that is why the Officer abandoned him._

_'Oh, Ginsaki dearest, there you are,' arms still surrounding the woman's waist, he beamed at him. 'I wanted you to be the first one on knowing this enormous news.'_

_Officer Oshiro held her pale hand and showed it to him. On her fourth finger, glistening under the Sun's light, laid a slender silver band. 'Look, Ginsaki,' she whispered bashfully, head resting cosily on Officer Oshiro's chest. 'I'm getting married to the man of my dreams. Aren't you proud of me, little, beautiful Ginsaki?'_

_His smile had long faded away, leaving a deep frown behind. His hands shook whilst trying to keep a nonchalant, unyielding mien._

_'Why her?' Were his first words._

_His beloved's gentle features turned into ugly, scornful ones. 'Oh, are you jealous, small Ginsaki?'_

_Hushing him softly, the woman caressed his face with her free hand, looking at him with even more sour expressions herself. 'Don't worry, my love, he's just a childish man, wanting to see me suffer all my life. Little does he know, however, that he'll never find love the same way we did.'_

__'You're worth nothing, dear,' Officer Oshiro once sneered, arm tightening around the woman's waist. 'You're just a pretty face and that's about it. You can't even breed lil' ones.'_ _

__Millions of questions bubbled up on his chest, urging him to spurt them out. « Why her and not me? Am I uglier than her? Is it because I am a man? Because I cannot give you offspring? What did I do wrong? How can I please you again? How can I make you look at me adoringly again? How? HOW? **HOW?** »_ _

__Instead, he forced a smile through tightly-closed lips and nodded. 'Ginsaki feels so glad for your engagement, Officer. Ginsaki is sure this woman will make you beyond happy for the rest of your lives _—she has been well-trained and she excels at all arts, as expected from a worthy woman.'__ _

___The words sounded awfully fake even to himself, but he kept going. 'Well, this kagema should stop interrupting you from showing your love to each other,' his hair fell on his face in the process of bowing respectfully and deeply to the couple, 'Ginsaki shall retire now.'_ _ _

___He could hear the woman's shrill sneer teasing him as he walked away, but he did not care enough. Posture straight and filled with grace, he walked far, far away. Letting the arm holding the umbrella fall to his side, he let the tears flow freely down his snowy cheeks._ _ _

_____ _ _

Leonhard felt even worse the longer he heard Ginsaki talk.

He could see Ginsaki's fidgeting hands, visible shudders running down his spine. His lips trembled from time to time, sometimes even forcing him to swallow the lump caught in his throat. It really was impressive how, Leonhard thought, with just one look, he could feel Ginsaki's every sentiment on his skin _._

Finishing his story, Ginsaki sighed and finally opened his blue eyes.

Eerily bright, they reflected Leonhard on their surface, frosty blue like shreds of ice against the sunlight. He did not dare to say they were glistening, for they instead wore long-hidden bitterness and supressed anger.

"You must feel extremely disgusted by now," Ginsaki sneered, trying to hide his sour smile with his sleeve. "Love is ridiculous, don't you think?"

Oh, how much did Leonhard desire to embrace Ginsaki tightly, to stroke his head gently and comfort him; to protect him from all the bad things in his colourful, tranquil world. Love is ridiculous: that statement was true, and he could not deny it, but at least, it made one ridiculously happy.

"I know you won't believe me, and I am fine with it," Leonhard daringly cupped Ginsaki's rosy cheek with his hand. "But, I want to let you know that disgust is the least thing I am feeling. In fact, this tale of yours have just made me fall prey to your charms all over again."

As if Ginsaki had not surprised the General enough, he leaned into his touch, closing his eyes and heaving a shaky sigh. "Keep going."

He smiled, 'As if I could not talk for an eternity.' "If only you knew how happy I feel in this moment. Ginsaki, the kagema that owns a cold, arrogant mien against the world, opening up his soul for me. Extremely beautiful, it is."

He started ranbling all his thought away—or, mostly, those that were not too embarrassing to say out loud. In the midst of another phrase, he suddenly felt a sting on his temple. It was more of an annoyance, really, so he decided to discard it for this moment. Still, it remained there, urging Leonhard to do something. _  
_

He remembered something.

 

> _Walking side by side with probably the most beautiful man he had ever met, he thought he could not feel any more happier. However, little did he know the enormous joy he experienced after said man, with all his grace and light, whispered his name like a mantra._
> 
> _"Will you remember me in the afterlife?"_
> 
> _How could he not? How could he not remember the man he loved the most?  
>  _

 

He discarded those weird thoughts aside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my restraint is inexistent, so later chapters will be impossibly longer. also, i'm really bad at knowing when to stop, so i'll simply post what i think is a chapter. i'm an un-betaed girl, by the way, so feel free to roast me.


	6. Makiokoru, V.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **(sort of a) trigger warning:** emetophobics (like me), please, stay away from the last paragraphs of this chapter.

Ginsaki looked up at the bright sky, narrowing his eyes when he felt the snowflakes falling on his face. He disliked—no, abhorred—winter, mainly because he had to deal with the disgusting chills and extreme weather alone.

Wrapping the fur coat tighter around himself, he calmly strode to his desired destination. Passing through his favourite place, that small grove, he noticed the eerie silence that had settled inside it, animals hibernating peacefully and the snow only rustling the dead tree's branches friskily.

His feet dragged through the thin coat of whiteness, his strong reluctance visible to all those near him. Remembering why Ginsaki was in this situation increased his dismay, yet, with small traces of hope, nervousness rose on his belly.

Opening his leather journal excitedly, Leonhard retrieved a fountain pen from his leather bag and took off the lid with his teeth, scribbling down the expensive paper.

Ginsaki genuinely did not know Generals and adults, in general, could be so childish and energetic.

"Okay, so," starting absent-mindedly, Leonhard let his words wander off their own way as he kept on writing. "When I arrived at the inn yesterday night, I couldn't stop thinking about what you said to me earlier. As a result, I stayed all night trying to decipher a genius plan for the situation at hand."

Indeed, even his body stayed loyal to its owner's words by showing dark circles under his green eyes and dishevelling his hair beyond salvation. Ginsaki longed for brushing his hair again and pamper him with gentle ministrations—and, to be honest, it scared the kagema to death. How can a man own such contrary personality to his charm him endlessly?

"A plan? A genius plan?" Ginsaki scoffed fondly. "What do you want to do? Kill me?" Leonhard kept quiet for a moment, deciding to ignore his question. "Oh, so you really wanted to kill me?" he tsked, "and here I was, thinking you were a gentleman."

"Well, for my defence, I wanted to fake your death were my plans unsuccessful," the General finally spoke, slamming his pen on the table as he frowned, deep in thought. "But, I don't think it will be necessary." Shaking his head, Leonhard resumed his excited scribbles. "No, no, it can't be—"

"Care to explain?"

"I'm so sorry, I am just way too invested in getting you out of this situation," he smiled bashfully, tucking a strand of his blond hair behind his ear. "Okay, okay, I will tell you. Just don't laugh at me."

Turning his leather journal around so that it could face Ginsaki instead, the latter noticed Leonhard had gone as far as to draw a map explaining his plan. Ginsaki could not avoid rolling his eyes, then blinking confused as he tried to read the messy Japanese characters that belonged to the man in front of him.

"So, given the fact that we simply cannot do anything to him, I guess we'll need to approach him the gentle way. Once your Mistress and the Officer decide on a date, you have to explicitly ask him to meet you on an unsuspecting place."

"An unsuspecting place?" Now it was his turn to frown. "An inn, perhaps?"

"Oh—, yes! I was thinking about a restaurant, but your idea is way better than mine," leaning on his elbows, he quickly crossed out what Ginsaki figured said 'restaurant'. "Well, supposing that he accepts your proposal, you will eventually have to meet him at the inn—"

"I don't think that's going to work."

"Please, let me finish!" Pouting, Leonhard pleaded, "I'll be quick, I promise. Okay, so, you will actually not be alone—Hoshiko and I will be hiding somewhere inside the same building, be it on a neighbouring room, table or whatever. As soon as he starts showing that kind of interest, you'll have to alert us with some kind of discrete signal. A wave of your fan, a scream, whatever, but you have to be extremely careful of him not finding out.

With us now wary and awake, we will interfere and confront him, humiliating him beyond the unthinkable!" he concluded, a big smile plastered on his face. "So, what do you think?"

Ginsaki still grimaced by the thought of the plan. He reluctantly accepted it after having Leonhard kneel before him, hands grasping the ends of his kimono as pleads blurted out from his trembling lips. It was not as if he had another plan under his sleeve, and Leonhard's plan was plausible enough for him to try it—albeit dubiously.

Right now, Ginsaki headed to a small shrine near the city's centre to meet up with Leonhard. They were going to discuss further ideas for the genius plan at hand, venturing as far as to locate the perfect inn to prosecute it.

The more time he spent with the General, the—or, that is what he liked to think— the closer they got to each other. Throughout those long six months of continuous dates with him, Ginsaki came used to lower his defences next to him, letting the ice wall surrounding him melting just a little bit.

Therefore, this time he let his hair down, combing and brushing it throughoutly, letting Leonhard see through another restraint of himself. Given the fact that they no longer treated each other like strangers anymore, Ginsaki had no longer the need to look beautiful for him.

But you still tried to.

Once the shrine got in his line of sight, Ginsaki felt the urge of making a run for it. He swallowed it down though, for he would not get that far—the annoying snow, ruining his days during all winter, threatened to cause him to sink until his ankles were covered in it.

Leonhard's back became more visible the closer he got, his ruffly blond hair resting on his shoulder tied into a ponytail. His unusual calmness triggered something inside Ginsaki, the sudden desire of scaring him speechless invading his senses.

Shouting at the top of his lungs, Ginsaki greeted him from behind. "General Kaiser!"

The man, in an act of startleness, jumped a bit and turned around. Much to Ginsaki's dismay, he wore a bright smile on his face, clearly not that scared. "What took you so long? Here I was, thinking you had abandoned me."

'As if I were to do that ever,' Ginsaki begged for his mouth not to blurt his thoughts out.

He tried to ignore Leonhard's scorching stare examining his entire being. "Well, as I told you all those months ago, as long as it benefits me, I'll accept."

"Oh, so interest it is," Leonhard extended his hand out and ruffled Ginsaki's silver hair. "If you keep accepting my requests, I'll be happy despite the true reason lying behind."

"I'm afraid you've just discovered me," he went along with their little play, "you should have known better before requesting me. Now I want you to buy me the whole world, just for myself."

The older man laughed hearteningly. "This spoiled kagema is going to leave me poor and broken-hearted; really, now I know why he's so expensive to contact."

Both broke out of character, giggling softly. While he covered his mouth with his hand to stifle his laughter, he could not avoid admiring the General quietly. His coat was closed, the golden buttons shining with the winter Sun's rays; a red scarf covered his neck, like how a serpent would do to its prey; and trousers tucked inside his black boots, Leonhard was the very embodiment of warmth, cosy clothing in winters.

Ginsaki, on the other side, did not care that much about his outfit. He had merely chosen the warmest kimono he could find, placing a white-fur, long coat over it—well, Ginsaki acknowledged, at least one of the presents from his rich clients could finally prove useful. Even if it was not comfortable to the eyes, he swore it was to the touch.

The General stretched out his arm, an offer and tradition they had long become used to. Ginsaki grasped it lightly, relishing on the warmth the man's body radiated. Sometimes, winter was one of his favourite seasons of the year.

Walking side by side, the General held with his free hand a large umbrella, covering both the kagema and himself from the soft snowfall that quietly fell upon the entire city. Even if the weather conditions were not favourable at all, the streets seemed as lively as ever: merchants screamed loudly, offering their products to the pedestrians; men, women and children admired the buildings, huddled against one another to feel less cold.

They strolled leisurely, taking their time with the nearby inns and studying them profusely. From the price range to the availability of rooms, Leonhard heatedly discussed and bargained with the owners, trying to get the best of the deals.

"Why do you care so much about the price?" Ginsaki asked after some time, getting out from the inn after Leonhard lifted the silk curtains for him. "I mean, the Officer has enough money to pay for three whole nights in the most expensive of places."

The General replied confident and proud. "We aren't going to spend more than twenty minutes in here—paying that much is just going to be a waste for both sides."

Ginsaki merely rolled his eyes, fondness spreading across his features.

Then, sometime later, Leonhard barked, his face expressing anger and impatience. "We are barely going to stay here for an hour, why charge as if we were to stay the whole night?"

"We are so sorry, Master General," the lady behind the counter bowed apologetically, her voice trembling with fear, "but, our terms do not allow us to book rooms for less than a night, and even less to charge below the minimum price."

The kagema softly squeezed Leonhard's bicep, standing on tiptoes to whisper at his ear. "Don't be so harsh, General Kaiser, she's just doing her job. Also, she's not used to listening to you bark orders; she's not a soldier of yours, after all."

That seemed to pacify Leonhard's anger. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "I'm so sorry, Ginsaki. I just want our plan to be successful."

"It won't unless you tone it down."

The lady seemed to be enormously relieved after seeing Leonhard's shoulders slump with defeat. She kept quiet for a moment and waited patiently until the man's face no longer showed anger. Testing the waters, she suggested, "however, we can do something about it. It would require to apply extra charges though."

Sighing both exasperated and exhaustedly, Leonhard lifted his money pouch, letting it dangle on his fingers. "How much for it?"

 

* * *

 

They crossed the street, aware of any oncoming carriages. After finally reaching an agreement with the lady at the inn, both men decided food would do wonders to their bodies. As if synchronised, their feet moved along without any protest and walked to the sushi restaurant they had set an eye for a while earlier.

Just when Ginsaki thought things were calm again, the murmurs came.

"Could it be the all-mighty Ginsaki?" they said, people covering their moving lips with their hands.

"I've seen that Young Master walking around here before. Is he one of his clients?"

"Rumours said Ginsaki was beautiful enough to anger the Gods, yet the man over there is everything but it—he can't be, his edges are too sharp."

"What're you talking about? You can tell he's a fine one just by looking from afar. You're a blind brat; anyone would do the impossible to fuck him and leave him screaming for more, after all."

Ginsaki winced, trying to block the venomous words from entering his ears. On the other side, Leonhard turned his head at all sides, but the murmurs were quick and fluent enough for him not to understand them. Still, as if feeling Ginsaki's distress himself, he scowled darkly and covered Ginsaki with the umbrella, entirely hiding him from prying eyes.

The vicious snarls stopped upon seeing the General's furious expression, the gossips scrambling and hiding away from the man's burning, freezing gaze.

'Why are you doing this?' Ginsaki thought, a sad smile spreading on his lips. 'I have already survived for three years; why bother now?'

They arrived at the restaurant, ordering what they longed for the most, and reviewing the plan until it was seared, engraved on their minds. Leonhard ate until he felt satisfied and obnoxiously full, while Ginsaki nibbled nonchalantly on this food; his hunger abruptly subsided at the moment they stepped on the building, his stomach churning painfully.

The kagema, just for a minute, felt something was about to go horribly wrong.

And, oh, if only he knew what was up ahead for him, he might as well not have left the teahouse that day; or, dare he say, he would have never left his room at all.

Leonhard sighed and stretched, placing his arms behind his head. "Hey, Ginsaki, how about we visit a shrine together?"

"Why the sudden interest?" Ginsaki huffed mockingly, "it's not as if you have never visited one."

He shrugged and chuckled. "I just feel like it."

They were far away from their initial meeting place, the one that casually was a shrine the last time Ginsaki saw it, so it would be a waste of time going all the way back there. Also, it would end up being counter-productive: once they desired to leave for the day, they would have to walk more.

And Leonhard set off, dragging Ginsaki by their linked arms. "Keep your eyes wide open in case we come across a shrine!" He laughed out loud and pinched Ginsaki's small nose teasingly.

 

* * *

 

Eventually—as expected from Edo—, Ginsaki caught a small shrine while rolling his eyes at one of Leonhard's trite jokes. He squeezed Leonhard's bicep, now guiding him through the wavering crowds to the tranquil side of the city.

Ginsaki knew about the recurrent mood swings Leonhard suffered, but at least, his decisions were left unharmed most of the time. However, this time, Ginsaki could not help but scoff slightly at Leonhard's extremely bad timing.

There it was, basked in its full glory, the shrine ethereally covered with snow. Ginsaki was not the type of person that tended to exaggerate, so, when he said the shrine was almost frozen and covered to the brim, one could be sure he was not joking at all.

Unlike Ginsaki, however, Leonhard was an optimistic person. Instead of groaning as the kagema did, he neared the shrine's entrance and gleefully kicked the snow to the side, forming a small path for the both of them. Really, Ginsaki admired and envied the General's overall enthusiasm.

"Come, Ginsaki!" Leonhard whispered loudly, striding and reaching the front of a small statue. "Please, teach me how to pray to the Gods!"

"That is the first thing you shouldn't do when entering a shrine," he walked quickly to catch up with the older man, cringing at the feeling of humid snow drenching his bare feet. Grasping him by the shoulders, the kagema guided Leonhard away from the biggest pavilion. "Purify yourself first. Follow me."

Ginsaki walked to the smallest pavilion near the entrance, where a beautifully ornamented trough was located. From the looks of it, the priest in charge of running the shrine may have already made its daily stroll, for the thin ice cape looming over the water had been removed as of now. Lifting the wooden ladle laid carefully over the trough's edge, Ginsaki instructed Leonhard how to pray with respect.

Leonhard, both enthusiastically and respectfully, made sure to examine Ginsaki's every action and watch out for any mistakes he was prone to, eventually, make. He took the ladle, cleansing his hands and washing his mouth. Leonhard was about to swallow the water until he noticed Ginsaki spitting it out to the rocks below.

Tucking a strand of white hair behind his ear, Ginsaki gave Leonhard a scolding side glance. He deepened his scowl, watching the General viciously until he, too, spat the water out; once the purification process ended, Ginsaki's mien softened as he kept on guiding Leonhard around.

They stopped in front of the largest pavilion, where the golden bells and a small box containing coins were located. Besides them, however, laid a wooden stand in which small incense sticks still burned and scented the chilling air.

"Was someone already here?" Leonhard asked, curiosity drenching his words. "We'll better make sure nothing stays out of place; it will be too easy for the priests to locate us if we do any misdeeds."

"You're supposed to take care of the shrines at all times, though."

"Oh, yes, of course! I did not mean that, I—"

Ginsaki huffed. "Hush now, then. They will kick us out for being noisy way before we dare to do evil things."

Leonhard stifled a small laugh, following Ginsaki quietly.

While Ginsaki bowed deeply to the Gods guarding the sacred place, Leonhard examined him. Ginsaki's blond eyelashes grazed the soft skin under his eyes, creating an enigmatic and alluring effect to his features. Still, such beautiful contrast could not distract Leonhard enough from Ginsaki's wavering enthusiasm—he had yet to tell Ginsaki that, indeed, he had long noticed his sour mood.

First, he did not look as healthy as how he would usually do. Yes, Ginsaki's complexion sure had a natural paleness to it, but the mix between greenness and whiteness his face experienced throughout the day greatly concerned him. Even though green was heavily associated with health, Leonhard was almost sure it indicated otherwise when it tainted one's face.

Then, many of his actions lacked effort. Again, yes, Ginsaki faced the world with leisurely and gracefully, but that day they were anything but it. During their many meetings, Leonhard came to now the kagema's endearing, quirky habits, one of them being the excessive sighs and deep breaths. Every single one of them was unique in its own way; some were long, others exasperated, and many more angered. Yet, the ones he had been doing all day were too deep, too trembling, as if he was holding something from getting out.

To sum up, Ginsaki simply was not doing alright, as much as he insisted otherwise.

Dissipating his daydreams aside, Leonhard frowned with worry when he noticed Ginsaki's slender hands trembling almost unnoticeably—holding a small incense stick and blowing softly on it, Ginsaki seemed eerily calm.

"Are you fine?" Leonhard asked for the nth time that day. "Do you want us to leave?"

"Pffft," Ginsaki waved his hand nonchalantly, "it seems as if you're the one not doing fine, actually. How many times do I have to tell you I'm all good?"

That still did not calm Leonhard. He narrowed his eyes, glaring suspiciously at the kagema. "Well, I'll accept that answer for now. Still, I want to leave now."

Ginsaki snatched Leonhard's umbrella from the soft grip the latter had on it, running and jumping around, his long hair flowing softly against the winter breeze. His kimono, playing along with both his hair and lively facade, waved behind him gracefully like a tail. And really, were Leonhard to say Ginsaki did not look lovely beyond words, he would be blatantly lying.

Easy enough.

The kagema, on the other side, tried his best to convey Leonhard he was alright. Well, apart from the increasing churns and somersaults his stomach seemed to enjoy as of now, he was doing relatively fine. To demonstrate his argument further, he started smiling and twirling around, getting closer to the shrine's entrance.

At some point during his well-practised performance, Ginsaki's smile and giggles eventually became genuine. "Hurry up, General Kaiser!" he shouted merrily, letting the air mingle in between his words, the breeze carrying them out of the shrine and its man-made cosy atmosphere. "Weren't you showing off your extreme speed and agility to me last day? You seem to be lacking them as of now!"

Ginsaki laughed out loud at Leonhard's shouted challenge. "Oh, I'm letting you win. Want me to show you my hundred per cent?"

"As if!"

Ginsaki kept on walking backwards, watching with fondness the General's fading silhouette. The heartstrings holding the organ together clenched hardly, knowing way too well that the happiness they felt would, eventually, come to an end. Leonhard would have to go, leaving Ginsaki alone for the rest of his life.

'Just like everyone did,' the dark side of his thoughts sneered.

But this moment was not meant for Ginsaki to dwell on the incoming, gloomy future. He had to, at least, enjoy something from the present to preserve it as a golden memory until the very end of his life. He would torture himself mentally when the adequate moment came closer.

So, he walked backwards, a merry spring on his steps, radiating enough warmth for the snow underneath his feet to melt figuratively.

He continued walking backwards, perceiving the shrine's nearing entrance from the landscape he left behind—and, in fact, could actually see. Even if the absolute worst happened, Ginsaki was sure Leonhard would catch up to him and save him from all the bad things of his gloomy world.

He was quite sure of it while lifting the umbrella above his head.

He was sure of it until a broad hand touched the small of his back.

'Oh, so Leonhard found a shortcut and snuck on me?' Ginsaki thought, an evil smile spreading across his lips. 'Time to play naughty again, it seems.'

Laughing to the point his whole body shook, Ginsaki cooed mischievously, expecting to see Leonhard beaming up at him—as always. "What a cruel way to cheat, Leonh--!"

What—or who, depending on the person asked—was waiting for him made Ginsaki's blood run cold, his once mirthful shivers morphing into fearful, furious shudders. Totally against Ginsaki's will, his blue eyes became bloodshot.

There he was, basked in the light of the winter Sun's retreating shine, the person he least wanted to encounter at that moment—or, to be honest, at all lifetimes to come. There he was, as poised and arrogant as he remembered, that one man that made him bawl his eyes out in an ungrateful night.

There he was, the one and only Officer Oshiro.

 

* * *

 

Officer Oshiro never once let his hand fall from the small of Ginsaki's back, letting it linger there to spread the warmth it radiated—although, for Ginsaki, it brought out the coldest quivers he had ever felt.

"Long time no see, small Ginsaki," chirped Oshiro, the creases beside his eyes wrinkling. "I've never thought I'd find a divine creature in such a mundane place." The Ginsaki from years ago would have already swooned at the sight, but the one that stood before the Officer now took a cautious step back.

Ginsaki swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise to his throat. Collecting some sort of non-existent courage buried inside him, he snapped. "Ginsaki is merely spending his time free praying, for there is not anything better to do right now. Instead, what is Officer Oshiro doing in this mundane place?"

"Why're you lying to me, little one? Didn't you once promise me you'd never do it?"

"Why would Officer Oshiro think I am lying to him?"

The gentle facade the officer covered himself with cracked unnoticeably. "Oh, please. Mere minutes ago, you were about to shout a name at the top of your lungs. A name of a foreigner, furthermore."

"Pay it no mind, Sir. The matters of a kagema are absolutely unworthy of being heard by such an important person as you." Ginsaki shamelessly avoided the question.

 

* * *

 

On the other side of the shrine, Leonhard wondered why Ginsaki suddenly fell quiet. The once lively atmosphere they created was gone with a whiff, replaced instead by an eerie, tingling silence. The torii ornamenting the path leading to the entrance blocked Leonhard's limited line of sight, forbidding him from catching a glance of Ginsaki's silhouette.

At first, he thought Ginsaki was taking a break from his jumps. However, nor the pants, nor the wheezes, nor the breathy laughs could be heard. Time kept passing, the silence now looming over Leonhard, and he finally sprinted out in worry.

Was he feeling so bad he had to go out of the shrine? Did he fall? Did he pass out? Is he alright?

Is he alright?

That same question ran in circles on Leonhard's mind, stabbing his skull menacingly and leaving him breathless. What would he do were something atrocious had just happened to Ginsaki? He would never forgive himself, his guilt would not waver one bit during his whole life; he was stupid enough to let Ginsaki wander off in such a state, and he would be the only one to blame.

His heartbeat quickened madly, his brain urging his legs to run faster, to move. Time kept passing by, and his thoughts nagged and snarled at him viciously.

'Please, tell me he is alright.'

 

* * *

 

"Ginsaki—!"

Turning his head to the source of the shout, Ginsaki almost shouted in relief upon seeing Leonhard fastly approaching. His gleeful features vanished, a deep frown staining his sun-kissed skin. Ginsaki had to grip the umbrella harder to stop himself from launching his shivering body into Leonhard's strong, comfortable arms.

Officer Oshiro, stunned, also turned his head to look at Leonhard. Having recognised him, his features turned both sour and mocking. Crossing his arms over his chest, the man sneered. "What do we have in here? General Kaiser, a high-rank officer named by the Emperor himself, stealing my Ginsaki away from me?"

When Leonhard caught up to the couple, the kagema could feel he had sensed the tense atmosphere between them. (Hopefully) connecting the dots, realisation washed over his features: sticking close to Ginsaki's side, Leonhard prised the kagema's hand from the umbrella gently, holding it above their heads and linking his arm with Ginsaki's stiff one.

Ginsaki's whole body felt stiff, cold to the touch, his nonchalant mien long gone. Instead, Ginsaki could feel his eyes water from having them wide open, his teeth clenching and grinding against one another. He tried his hardest to get out from his daze, yet he could feel it clawing at him, drowning him further.

"Steal me away from you?" Ginsaki spat every word out as if they were poison, "I was never yours—I do not belong to anyone."

Leonhard, being the gentleman he always was, cleared his throat to announce his presence. "I am sorry, Sir, but I do not know you. Shall I introduce myself first? An eye for an eye."

"You resemble each other a lot," Officer Oshiro laughed bitterly, "Are foreigners always this arrogant? Always forgetting those below them, sucking the cocks of those granting them their power."

Ginsaki was about to open his mouth again, trying his best not to crumble apart from the panic surging through his veins, when Leonhard talked for him again. His smile gentle and soft, he bowed amiably. "You seem to already know me, kind Officer. General Leonhard Kaiser, at your service at all times. If I am allowed to, I would like to know your name too."

If this was an entirely different situation, Ginsaki would have already mocked Leonhard for his passive-aggressiveness.

Mirroring his bow, albeit indignantly, the man introduced himself. "Mister Oshiro, at your service."

"I apologise, General Kaiser, but talking to you isn't my priority on my list," groused Oshiro, his attention diverting back to the silent kagema. He said, "I want to talk to the kagema beside you, the one and only Ginsaki. Such a legend, isn't he?"

Ginsaki shook himself out of his daze, masking his fear with anger. "Flattery is not going to work this time, Officer," he clipped, "I hope you--"

"Is that the way to talk to a good, old friend of yours?" Oshiro provoked, his words emanating both venom and honey. "And here I was, thinking you had changed for me. That's what you promised me not so long ago, remember?"

Ginsaki merely clenched his fists, closing his eyes and controlling his erratic breathing. In, out. In, out. In—he now took a shaky breath, the nausea waves he had felt throughout the day now becoming unbearable, uncontrollable. He gulped, his tongue already catching a glimpse of an acrid, bitter flavour.

He could no longer hear Leonhard's snarky remarks, could no longer feel the sense of safety the General brought into him; Gods, Ginsaki could no longer distinguish what were mere hallucinations between reality itself.

He only knew he felt atrocious, terribly, horribly bad.

Atrociously bad with himself for being so weak, so meek in front of him.

Terribly bad for showing Leonhard that hidden, fragile part of himself.

Horribly bad when his upset stomach made him wince and break into a cold sweat.

Ginsaki knew he had, somehow, spaced out during the whole conversation, for Oshiro's creasing forehead scowled at them with a frown, his lips curled into a nasty snarl. Leonhard, on the other side, maintained a composed front, yet his twitching eye betrayed his increasing impatience.

"Your Mistress and I still haven't decided on a date," Oshiro concluded, "but I paid a great amount in advance just to be the priority on your long queue, you see."

Snapping out of his thoughts, Ginsaki hissed. "I'll try my best to give you the worst date ever known to man."

Both Ginsaki and Leonhard thought the Official would leave them alone as of now. They had angered him enough, and the winter Sun was starting to set beneath the mountains; also, the trio had the mutual desire to leave immediately. However, much to the kagema's and Leonhard's surprise, he did the complete opposite.

Lifting his arm with absolute nonchalance, he reached up and shamelessly caressed Ginsaki's pale cheek, cooing him into oblivion. "I can't wait for you to please me again, dear. I know you'll do a good job, as you've always done."

Ginsaki swiftly detached his linked arm from the General's, covering his mouth with his hand, a wave of nausea assaulting his whole body. Noticing the kagema's distress, Leonhard slapped Oshiro's hand away, his green eyes burning with exposed, raw fury.

Officer Oshiro must have found their reactions amusing, for he left laughing out loud, leaving a trail of hostility and annoyance behind his steps. The snow seemed to melt against him, as if disgusted and trying to run away from the Officer's mere presence. If only were they on a playful mood, they would have already teased the man to death.

Leonhard turned around and leaned forward, grasping Ginsaki's shoulders as he analysed his even paler complexion. Now that the flames extinguished, worry and confusion tainted his green eyes. The kagema still held his hand over his mouth, blue eyes tightly shut as his body shook with harsh shivers.

"Let's leave now, Ginsaki," Leonhard urged, "this is more than enough."

Still, Ginsaki's feet seemed rooted to the spot, his already stiff body now resembling that of a paralysed person. Leonhard waited patiently, rubbing his shoulders as a sign of comfort—really, it was not as if he could do a lot; the situation at the moment left him empty-handed.

Mere seconds after, Ginsaki abruptly opened his eyes, slurring out his words. "Oh, my—please, wait for me here."

**(Trigger Warning for Emetophobics)**

Leaving a confused Leonhard behind, Ginsaki sprinted out of the shrine and, spotting a small and dry bush near the entrance, he made a run for it. He barely made it before harsh heaves dominated his body and, squatting next to the bush, the kagema started retching violently.

His eyes stung with unshed tears, the force of his retching causing his body to shiver in a fast, continuous pace. However, it did not take long before a broad, warm hand grasped his long hair and prevented it from falling to his face, another one rubbing soothing circles on his back, calming his upset stomach.

The movements from the hands never faltered, and instead increased in tenderness and worry. It brought some comfort into Ginsaki—having someone besides you, utterly devoted to you, supporting you from the depths of Hell and climbing with you to the Heavens, always holding your hand through the worst and the best. Ginsaki wondered when was the last time he felt like that; if he had ever felt that before.

When Ginsaki felt as if coughing up his insides, he knew it was more than enough. Once his heaves subsided, his gagging stopped, and he could only spit saliva, he let his shoulders slump.

Organising his ideas together, he said with a raspy voice. "It didn't go alright."

"Not at all." was Leonhard's brief answer.

Leonhard, for once, was grateful for bringing his water canteen all the time, strapped to his belt and dangling with every step he took. Unfastening the string that tied it to him, the General handed Ginsaki the container filled with fresh water.

"Here, wash the taste off," Leonhard resumed his ministrations on Ginsaki's back, feeling the coat slightly damped with sweat. "Don't drink it though; it might upset your stomach even more."

The blond man, upon hearing Ginsaki spit out his last mouthful of water, gently turned him around so he could catch a glimpse of him. The sight, however, left Leonhard speechless with concern. Between his trembling hands, he held a silk napkin, long stained with trails of vomit like the fur coat he was wearing; his cheeks and neck flushed angrily, beads of sweat collecting at his forehead despite the sharp cold; and, moreover, his once bright blue eyes were bloodshot and tearful.

Leonhard reached out, his left hand cupping Ginsaki's cheek. He almost flinched at the contact, burning heat colliding against freezing cold. He blurted out, "Ginsaki, you're scorching hot."

"Men tend to tell me that a lot."

Shaking his head a tad bit amused, Leonhard let Ginsaki's fur coat slip from his shoulders, throwing it to the ground and swiftly replacing it with his own coat. He gently guided Ginsaki to his feet, his left hand grasping the kagema's thin waist while the other clutched his trembling arm.

Ginsaki laughed breathily, his head lolling until it found Leonhard's shoulder, opting for staying there. "I just ruined an expensive coat I've only worn once."

The General did not let the arising opportunity go. He bragged, "I can buy you ten more, far more luxurious than that one."

The kagema only responded to his bragging with another giggle before fainting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the rest of the chapters will be of a similar length as this one, fyi.  
> oh, and this is extremely un-betaed (i stopped using grammarly because it crashed my computer?? wtf...)


End file.
